


Mobius Noir Files #1: Layers of Sin

by BlazingBeast20, EdgeHedgeShads



Series: Mobius Noir Case Files [1]
Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (Video Games), Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: 1940s, Addiction, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Noir, Angry Sex, Consent, Crimes & Criminals, Denial of Feelings, Derogatory Language, Detective Noir, Detectives, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Discrimination, Drugs, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Film Noir, Fist Fights, Friendship, Gangsters, Gay, Gay Character, Gay Porn Hard, Gay Sex, Gheytorade, Gritty, Help, Homophobia, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Summaries, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, It Starts Pretty Dark, M/M, Male Friendship, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mobius (Sonic the Hedgehog), Mobius Noir, Morbid, Murder, Pansexual Character, Past Character Death, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Plot With Porn, Politics, Porn With Plot, Racism, Rating: M, Religious Guilt, Rough Sex, Sexism, Shads needs a hug, Skeletons In The Closet, Smoking, Tags Are Hard, The Sex Is Intense, Trauma, Traumatic Backstories Everywhere, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Work In Progress, Yaoi, coarse language, infinadow - Freeform, mild PTSD, smut with angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 120,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22631005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlazingBeast20/pseuds/BlazingBeast20, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgeHedgeShads/pseuds/EdgeHedgeShads
Summary: Owners murdered, Shadow uses his unwanted connections with the Jackal Squad along with the Chaotic Employment Initiative to get into the SSPD, determined to solve their case. Twenty years later, he's a Detective Chief Inspector assigned his own Junior, but the path to success has been anything but smooth. Immovably tied to the Squad through favours, he's still firmly stuck in Infinite's clawed grasp long after his debt has been repaid, and now risks every immoral decision he's made being exposed by an unsuspecting Junior Detective.
Relationships: Amy Rose/Sonic the Hedgehog, Infinite/Shadow the Hedgehog
Series: Mobius Noir Case Files [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138673
Comments: 46
Kudos: 76
Collections: Case File Collection





	1. Damaged Goods

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Zee, my enabler and beta.

**CHAPTER ONE: DAMAGED GOODS**

_It's April. Spring._

_Not that it makes a difference._

_I'm crouched in an alley behind some dive at four in the morning, waiting for the green to finish taking shots of a stiff who apparently drowned in an inch of water._

_Another addict off the streets. Good._

_Shame about the fucking mess._

_We're chilled to the bone, soaked despite coats and hats. Hands shaking something fierce I clench them, not needing the ideological Junior Detective now sewn to my pants leg giving lectures this early._

_I'd blame the cold, but we both know it's withdrawal; an hour ago I was sleeping on a bar. Only four since my last sip and my body is betraying me already._

_Pathetic._

Rain pours in sheets, smog choking the city of Station Square, but the downtown Mobian Quarter is the worst. Sky dull like ash, some nights indiscernible from days, street lamps burn at all hours. It doesn't curb the crime rates, though. This sad-sack is one of dozens this month, to become a statistic - details forgotten - by year's end, over seventy percent of whom will be Chaotics.

_'The city of Equal Opportunity'. My ass._

Unable to focus, Detective Inspector Shadow retrieves a hip flask from his inside pocket, urgently unscrews the cap and takes a drag, only to find it empty. With a curse he shoves both cap and flask back in his trench coat and pulls a pack of Camels from another, grateful they're still dry as shaking fingers struggle first to extract a cigarette and then strike a light, shielding it from the unrelenting rain with a bare hand until it catches.

The relief is immediate, a euphoria better than sex when nicotine floods his maw. The ebony hedgehog's eyes flutter closed as he breathes deep, filling his chest with calming fumes, forgotten Zippo raised in the air as he takes the gasper in fingertips. With its removal, the Detective exhales a shaking cloud of smoke and with it, much of the tension built in his body.

His Junior Detective scrunches his nose at the scent of nicotine and tar, pausing to peer at his mentor around the clunky flash apparatus atop his cheap, boxy camera. Disapproving emeralds lock with hard crimsons barely a moment before Sonic returns to work, the harsh flash of white that follows making Shadow flinch with a growl. 

"Aren't you done yet, hedgehog?"

"Almost," the youngster responds with a detached tone, focused on getting close to the victim's head, crouching beside the puddle for an intimate photograph that'd have the public cringing with distaste. "Commissioner Eggman wants clear shots of probable cause of death, trace evidence, and injuries. I just need-"

"You've got enough," the grizzled detective asserts as he pockets the lighter. Balancing burning cigarette between thin lips to free his hands, he takes an envelope from a pocket and flips it open. "Photographs aren't evidence of anything besides the scene we were presented with; stop fucking about and let me do my job, before the rain washes away everything useful."

Sonic casts the detective another look, distaste for the blatant disregard of Eggman's authority obvious in the frown on his muzzle. Then he sighs, letting the camera swing back to his chest on its leather strap as he stands, conceding to an experienced operative knowing he's too fresh for his opinion to carry weight. 

"Of course, Sir."

In a steadier state of mind Shadow might've challenged the lack of respect in his tone, but he's not in the mood, instead letting it drown in the rain to study the cadaver. His build and tail are vaguely candid, short bristled fur suggesting a coyote or dingo if it weren't for the angular sheer of the pelt. 

"Recently clipped," he states aloud, pinching a clump of sodden fur between his fingers and straightening the strands for emphasis, holding it there for the other to photograph as sharp crimsons scan the body. It's a practice humans like to keep Tamed Chaotics with thick or long pelts neat, but the lack of brand, cuff or collar is abnormal. "Yet no owner's mark. Escaped, perhaps."

His Junior puffs out a breath, and lines up a shot. "D'you always assume the worst, Detective? He might've been Freed recently. It does happen, you know."

Releasing the fur, the ebon leans over the canid corpse in search of clues, finding nothing beyond a cigarette butt. Quickly, Shadow slips it into an envelope and seals the paper vessel, rummaging through a half-dozen damp pockets for a pen as he responds. "I'm being realistic; shelling out for a clip before Freeing an asset is asinine."

Envelope marked, he slips it into a pocket, catching the younger's gaze as he stands. "Letting sociological bias skew your interpretation so easily will guarantee your failure, Constable. You want to make detective, reign in the ideology and concentrate on what you _can_ see, not what you _want_ to see. Understood?"

Not waiting for a response, he jams the point of his left shoe beneath the victim's shoulder and flips the corpse, unaffected by the damp _thunk_ of deadweight on soaked concrete. The head rolls listlessly and settles away from the officers, a blessing for Sonic, who stands and takes a step away from his first fresh victim, swallowing the bile crawling up his throat. "T-that's-"

"If you need to vomit, don't do it on the cadaver." 

Without pause, Shadow steps over the body and crouches to examine his face, skin pruned and pale from being submerged in death. His eyes are closed and deceptively peaceful, but the gentle lift of chill flesh reveals irises of distinctly rare colouration. "Amber eyes. A freshly clipped jackal, then."

Swallowing hard, an azure hand unconsciously clutches at his throat in discomfort until his mentor takes hold of the dead Chaotic's jaw, turning it with little emotion as his smouldering cigarette hangs from thin lips, slowly turning to ash. Then sickened beyond a threshold he hadn't been aware existed, Sonic turns away retching.

The ebon snorts. "If you can't handle one dead body-"

"I'm handling it fine," he states sharply, cheeks of pale green as he holds a stilling palm towards the Detective Inspector. To his credit, barely a handful of seconds pass before he continues with a calmer tone, even if he won't look back just yet. "So are we working a homicide, or did he drown in an inch of water so lit he passed out?"

Another humourless snort, and Shadow takes a drag of his cigarette, simultaneously responding and expelling a cloud of smoke as he looks up to the azure. "You tell me; buck the fuck up and study the vic, reconstruct the most likely cause, and walk me through it like a journalist with a penchant for embellishment. I want every detail, every gruesome observation, and your hypothesis, Constable."

Hesitantly, Sonic slowly turns back to his mentor. Jades linger on the Detective's hard crimsons, expectation of compliance written in his set jaw and calm demeanour. If Sonic refuses, he's back on the beat as a meter maid. Its this realisation that has him take a deep breath and begrudgingly look back to the cadaver with a shudder of revulsion, forcing down his nausea.

A few seconds pass. Shadow resumes his investigation in silence, an ear turning to the Junior Detective when he begins to speak. "There's no evidence of a struggle, but if he passed out and fell forwards there'd be trauma on the face, like a broken nose or bruised cheekbone. That means he was already unconscious, and put there rather than fell, someone trying to make it look accidental."

"My thoughts precisely," his superior confirms softly, a claw curled beneath a button of the jackal's waistcoat with a deep frown of concentration. "Coupled with the absence of the victim's suit jacket, I propose an ambush. The jacket gets damaged and is removed, disguising the presence of the multiple perps needed to avoid beating the vic, then staged as just the death of another drunk."

"But why this guy? Is he someone important?" 

A disapproving tisk in lieu of a reply as the detective carefully scrapes a fine, white powder from beneath the button. Meticulously gathering the miniscule sample on a claw beneath the protective brim of his hat, the azure watches him bring the stuff to eye-level for inspection with a frown. "Some kind of residue? I should take a-"

He doesn't finish before Shadow licks it off, unexpected action enough to freeze both his voice in his throat and the hands raising his camera in place, grip loose enough it falls back to his chest as the ebon cringes and flicks his tongue in distaste. "Stardust. The cheap shit, too. Likely a runner for a local gang who got jumped on his round."

Brain suddenly returning to functionality, Sonic jerks a step backwards. "What the _fuck_ , Shads?" 

Looking up sharply, Shadow snarls, the disproportionate reaction setting the azure's quills on edge as the ebony detective wipes his hand on his pants and stands swiftly. "If I were you, I'd concentrate on your own conduct, not that of whom is not your concern. _Never_ refer to me as such again, I'll have you thrown out on your ass within an hour at most. Got it?"

The constable waves his hands defensively, not sure why his partner got so offended but unwilling to pry on pain of death or worse, expulsion from the force on his first day as a Junior Detective. "Sorry! I don't mean to offend, but it's… that stuff could've been what _killed_ the guy and you just casually _lick it? Why-?!_ "

"Stardust is the most common drug on the street," the baritone cuts through Sonic's question with ease. Falling silent, he watches the experienced officer steps over the body once more, gaze distant despite being focused on the still form below. "There's two to three dozen king pins with a dozen grades feeding into the city, most all of them tainted by a filler to maximise profits."

Emeralds blink slowly, letting that sink in. "So they all use a different filler? And you know each one by _taste_?" 

"About seventy percent," Shadow clarifies, gaze locked on the victim, the frown settled on his face deepening with each passing second. "This one's not exceptionally toxic, at least. Industrial-grade soda crystals ground to a powder and added in variable proportions, but it's the cheapest Dust on the street."

Finally looking up his eyes are intense, almost glowing in the dark. Core muscles coiled in irritation, the ebon reaches for another gasper and lights it with casual flair as the patter of rain slows time to a crawl, a vague yellowish hue of lighter illuminating his haggard features until Shadow flicks the it off again, cigarette alight.

"I know who runs this shit," he murmurs, cinched lips holding the cigarette in place as he tucks the Zippo into a pocket. Pinching the stick between his fingers, Shadow inhales deeply and takes it from his maw with a satisfied sigh, plumes of smoke exhaled amist words. 

"We'll pay him a visit later. I need a drink."

-

_This isn't the drink I had in mind._

Still, Shadow accepts the mug without complaint and takes a sip of the black, unsweetened coffee, finding the bitterness an unexpected comfort against the passage of time. He wants the crime scene photos on hand when paying his _old friend_ a visit, but that requires the nerts back at the precinct to develop Sonic's snaps, the same nerts who'll not roll into work for another hour _, to then_ take an hour or two to process the images.

Every second feels like an eternity in the wake of a more pressing matter; solving this damn homicide before any others end up as collateral damage, and dealing with an increasingly pressing need for hard liquor. He's tired and irritable as Sonic chats with the young, fuschia waitress, already much too familiar with her for the ebon's taste, but a touch of whisky in his cup of joe soothes his soul.

_I suppose it'll suffice, for now._

An ear on their conversation, Shadow feigns disinterest and sips his coffee, a slight smirk touching his lips as the pair converse. Since beginning to talk to her, the azure has developed an array of nervous tics; scratching behind his right ear, touching his nose and cracking bad jokes, then chuckling awkwardly - all things the ebon has observed in passing, the dance of a lovestruck kid.

 _He's carrying a torch for the girl._ He takes another sip and steals a glance at the fushia, noting the flush in her cheeks and giggly replies. _She's got it bad, too. Lucky kid._

The eatery itself is… a little rundown. Buried in the heart of the Chaotics Quarter with as many windows busted in as intact, heavy oak double doors open directly onto a bar blocking off the kitchen. The line of beaten-up stools are screwed to the floor in front alludes to its former life as a disreputable dive, as do the molded rings etched into its veneer and it's unexplained, sticky residue.

Masking the vaguely persistent smell of heavy liquor, an intoxicating aroma of fresh eggs and bacon spews out of the hidden kitchen, fatty oil brought to the boil and the burnt bitterness of cheap coffee. Overhead lamps barely penetrate dark corners perpetuated by the boarded-up windows and curls of smoke wraps around their fixtures, choking what little illumination there is and leaving the establishment in semi-darkness even after sunrise.

Either side of the bar, rooms bulge into existence, filled with the laughter of those who call the Chaotics Quarter home; children dressed for school, husbands ready to head to work in their best suits come eight, and mothers fretting over unruly fur and stains on shirts. They're an unexpected reminder of loss, his motivation to become a detective, and Shadow's breath freezes in his chest.

Shadow regards them all without emotion, emptiness gathering that threatens to set repressed feelings free. Waves of sudden, unrestrained grief overtake his senses, choking all self control until its almost too much for the ebon to bare in silence, too sober to toss the thoughts aside and focus on the present as he hangs his head.

_Godamnit, it hurts._

_How does it still hurt so much?_

A clink on the bar shatters his internalisation, the scent of fatty fried food slicing through flooded senses. Tired crimsons crack open to a steaming omelette filled with vegetables and sliced, crisped bacon. It smells delicious, but he didn't order it; he looks to the waitress placing a similar meal before her sweetheart, voice softer than he intended on the tail of turmoil. "This isn't mine-"

"I ordered for ya," the azure responds cheerfully, already cutting into his eggs. He takes a mouthful, barely chews it, then swallows, chasing it down with a whole glass of water before expanding the point. "Because coffee ain't breakfast, you know? But if you wanna thank someone, it should be Aimes; she put it on her tab."

"Oh don't," the fuschia bats his comment away with a flick of the wrist, setting the azure chuckling to himself as he devours his breakfast. She turns to Shadow with a smile and a slight cock of the head, clasping her hands in front of her pinny apron. "Ignore him; he knows eating at work gives me indigestion. I'd rather the portions I get don't get wasted though, so if you ever need a cheap meal drop by here, Mister-…?"

"Detective," the azure corrects her around a mouthful of eggs, already piling up a third forkful. "He's my mentor for the foreseeable future. Ain't that right, Sha- _Sir?_ "

_So, the kid **is** paying attention. _

The ebon huffs in mild humour, finally relinquishing the mug for cutlery. "Detective Chief Inspector Shadow the Hedgehog," he informs without looking up, movements precise while cutting a portion of omelette to mask the slight shake in his hands. "Shadow for you though, doll. Your generosity is greatly appreciated."

Comically, the fuschia puffs up her cheeks and plants her fists in her hips, a twist on her lips. "Well, I'm glad you're thankful, Shadow. But I ain't your _doll_ ; Amy's just fine."

Her attitude is unexpected, her fiery character a rarity in women in general, let alone Mobians; unable to repress his humour, Shadow chuckles softly and raises the fork to his lips, pausing to catch her eye. "Then I apologise, Miss Amy, and I'll be sure not to compliment my Junior Detective's girl in the future."

Both young hedgehogs flush beneath fawn muzzle furs, but more entertaining is how Sonic apparently inhales a mouthful of eggs and starts to cough, banging his chest with his fist as he tries to articulate a reflexive response. "Sh-she ain't my g-girl, Detective! We lived on the same block and ended up friends, nothing more!"

"My mistake," the Detective responds levely, eating the forkful of eggs while barely keeping a smirk from curling his muzzle, and downs the last of his coffee. "You're so exceptionally close, the deduction seemed sound."

Neither hedgehog replies. In his peripherals, he watches two sets of bright emeralds share a glance before they go their own ways. The fuschia goes back to work while Sonic buries himself in breakfast, the azure not speaking until the deep burn has faded to little more than a pale flush of his muzzle. "So we're headed back to the precinct, then off to who pedals that Stardust, right?"

"Correct," the veteran officer confirms, offering a small smile to the fuschia refilling his coffee and blows on the scalding, near-black brew before taking a sip, smacking his lips in satisfaction as he places it down. "I want those snaps before we go near the Jackal Squad; their King Pin prefers evidence over word of mouth, and I'm not in the mood to argue with the city's shitsta-"

Sonic drowns the ebon's words with a low whistle as the fuschia's features become a slight frown. Ebon ears fold back in uncertainty even as the azure starts to explain, tone a near-whisper. "Not to tell you how to be or what to do, but… well, cursing in front of kids won't give us a good rep with local families…"

_No fucking kidding, Junior Detective Wiseass..._

He snorts. "I've few dealings with the public. It's hardly a concern." Nonchalantly, he takes a long drag of scalding coffee, seeming unperturbed by the temperature. "The individuals I usually engage don't care if questionable language is used, and that won't change overnight."

"If we hang out, it'll matter more often," he smirks, only to falter upon meeting half-lidded crimsons heavy with fatigue. It's the same expression Shadow has worn all morning minus a disapproving frown, the azure's smirk becoming a tight grimace as he adds: "Because we _want_ to make a good impression. If people don't trust us-"

"I've been employed by the SSPDCQ for twenty years. I don't require an impromptu lecture on policing basics, nor the benefits of gaining public trust." The Detective necks the remains of his mug and places it on the bar, standing as drags his overcoat on with practiced ease. "I'm trusted, if unknown by appearance." 

Hat retrieved and replaced between his ears, he takes a moment to light a smoke while out of the foul weather, turning up his collar with a starched snap of fabric once his hands are free again. "But you'll have to develop a rapport on my heels. If you're incapable of doing so I suggest telling the Commissioner yourself; he despises having to pay attention to the ants beneath his boot."

The azure smirks wide and toothy, rubbing his nose with a thumb. "Sounds like a challenge. I like a challenge."


	2. Broken Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the "office".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More special thanks to Zee, who tolerates my neediness on a daily basis, and Traz for reading.

**CHAPTER TWO: BROKEN HOME**

Having their own office would've been novel if Shadow weren't a chainsmoker; windows tightly sealed against the late spring elements, the only ventilation they have a lazy ceiling fan barely moving the stale air. Dirty blinds cover dull glass overlooking a large workspace Sonic had been assigned to until this morning, his old desk already reassigned to a new human recruit, leaving he and his mentor the sole Chaotic employees for the CQ district.

The lighting is dim and yellowed, bulb stained by smoke and nicotine never cleaned off, blinds at least only the vaguest tone of sickly discolour. Adding to the darkness, the room is dominated by a heavy, near-black desk of an oak-like timber. Opposite, a single chair sits empty, the thick layer of grey on its seat confirming its rare use, and beyond the azure occupies a couch likely older than he.

It's almost a closet, really; a wall replaced with glass for a little natural light from the main precinct but likely not enlarged in the process. It's intimate. Claustrophobic. Sonic  _ really _ doesn't like it, especially since his mentor is determined to keep the door closed and blinds shut. It's exactly how he imagined how being buried alive would be, except suffocated by smoke and dust instead of dirt.

Despite demands to sequester themselves away while awaiting the crime scene photos, Shadow slips into a restless sleep almost immediately, every creak of fraying leather upholstery like a gunshot in the quiet room. The ebon neither snores nor speaks, but his expressions are varied and somewhat frightening, clenching of fists and shaking of tensed arms folded across his chest almost sure signs of psychological distress.

Sonic daren't wake him, though. In the three weeks he ran files and made copious mugs of coffee, he learned the Detective could be somewhat volatile, but much of what he was told has been proved to be an exaggeration of the truth. Cold dedication to his job, not meticulous with trace evidence but an eye for detail and obviously intelligent enough to make DCI, despite his human co-workers' derogatory remarks.

Even with these discrepancies, the azure has no desire to test Shadow's patience just yet, not if he's as unstable as Superintendent Towers would let him believe.

Bored out of his mind, he watches the fan rotate above. It seems entirely pointless to run, but is wired into the light, making its slow progress unavoidable. Pondering if it was the fan that put Shadow to sleep, the youngster stretches his legs and rolls his neck with a groan. 

_ Wish he'd given me a job before taking a nap… or maybe it's a test, and I'm supposed to use my initiative... _

Pulling himself into a sitting position, an azure shoulder rolls out a sore muscle as bright emeralds scan the tiny room. Being so small, there's few spaces for Shadow to have hidden such a thing; his desk drawers are locked with a key the azure saw being slipped back into a waistcoat pocket, the desk itself tidy except for two case files, the metal filing cabinets lining the back wall-

_ Wait, two files?  _

Sharp irises skip back to the old leather desk jotter, large sheaths of paper indented by scribbles of the past awaiting another brainstorm, atop which is indeed two card files. The first is exceptionally thin - their active case - but the other is three inches thick, its cardboard sleeve clearly has heavy use, contents overflowing with paperclips and held together with elastic.

_It's obviously old_.  _ A cold case, maybe?  _

He glances to his sleeping mentor before leaning over and picking up the laden file, moving carefully to be as quiet as possible, then sits back to peruse its contents. It is old - from almost two decades ago, the year before he was born - and filed by Abraham Towers back when he'd been the CQ's DCI. 

The initial report is strangely sparse, Towers describing the double homicide of a Professor and his chronically ill granddaughter shot point-blank in their home, a large property on the border of a CQ neighbourhood. With no witnesses except for a neighbour who heard two shots, no leads surfaced, and the case went cold in weeks.

Time of death was placed at eight thirty, with police on the scene by eight fifty-one. The lower floor had been torn apart, presumably in the search for valuables, yet a number of items - four golden bracelets of Chaotics size, the Professor's watch, the girl's morphine - easy enough to shift on the streets had been left behind, with Towers first speculating the robbers fled when police arrived.

What perplexed DCI Towers was the discovery of a room connected directly to the granddaughter, likely what was once a closet converted into cramped living quarters for a carer. If the girl's medications were anything to go by, she would've needed constant care. The Professor was easily affluent enough to afford an employee, but the circumstances beyond the obvious are... abnormal.

Even as a large closet, the quarters were too small for a human bed, and indeed the bed inside was large enough for a child.  _ "Or a fully grown Chaotic," _ the azure frowns slightly when reading that note, remembering again the mention of what were likely Ownership Bracelets left at the scene. With no dead Chaotic and Bands in the hall, Sonic draws the exact same conclusion as the next line of Towers' report:

"Possibly an unregistered Tame Chaotic gone rogue..."

The words slip out unconsciously, but Sonic will always swear he sensed the instant his mentor awoke, the fur on the back of his neck standing to attention. Cold dread smothers his flesh in goosebumps as he slowly looks to hard crimson, eraged eyes boring to the core of his Earthly soul.

"You fell asleep, and I-"

Shadow snaps his fingers before holding out his hand, into which the Constable deposits the file without hesitation, tracking the ebon hedgehog's hands while he locks the file in a draw and returns the key to his pocket. When their eyes meet again, anxious energy has his lips in motion, ears flattened to his skull and head lowered in submission as he desperately hopes not to get fired for reading  _ one _ report "I-I'm sorry Shads.  _ Shadow _ .  **_Sir_ ** ." 

He flinches with each misnomer, reacting to the Senior officer's rumbling growl by raising his palms defensively between them. "You fell asleep, and I thought I'd have a peek at whatever else you're working on. Maybe I'd see something you didn't -  _ not _ that you need me to do your job for you! You've been great so far! - but I thought… I thought, maybe… fresh eyes…?"

He trails off as the ebon stands and proceeds to shrug his coat on without a harsh word, digging out a smoke. The tension in Sonic's muscles melts to a heaviness that also settles in his mind, brain like cotton balls as his maw finally returns to his control. "Sir? Aren't you gonna-?"

"Your pictures should be processed by now," the ebon interrupts the question as he tucks his lighter away and reaches for his hat. Once placed, he takes the stick from his lips without drawing on it, looking back to the azure still seated on the coach with distaste on his features. "So get your coat, hedgehog. Unless you require a nap?"

The ebon doesn't wait for a reply, yanking his office door open in the same instant as turning away, and is halfway across the precinct in moments. Sonic scrambles for his suit jacket, coat and hat, placing the latter haphazardly between pert ears and draping the others over an arm, then sprints after him with speed befitting his name.

He huffs a breath of relief as he catches up and gives the solemn Detective a thumbs up, only to frown slightly at his back when he turns away with a roll of tired rubies. He decides to drop it for now, but obsessions with a cold case were rare unless it was somehow personal, and the secretive thing is just another layer of suspicion.

_ Why have you got a twenty year old homicide case locked in your desk, Shads? _

-

Hiding anger has become easier for Shadow with time. An infringement on his privacy akin to his Junior's latest transgression would've sent him off the hook as a new recruit. Even seven years ago it would have resulted in a heated argument, perhaps even the threat to have the snoop demoted back to errand boy and meter maid, but now he lets it pass like a summer breeze; acknowledged as it blillows in his quills, then forgotten for eternity.

_ Except I'm not naive. Time hasn't healed anything. _

_ I've dulled the pain; a smoke to steady the hand, a drink to numb the mind, and work to keep busy. _

Waiting by the shuttered entrance, he watches while the azure scratches the itch making him bounce off walls in enthusiasm and tries not to gag on the chemical smells permeating every inch of the unventilated room. It's been more than ten hours without a drink - a dribble of cheap whisky in his coffee hardly worth counting - and every minute has dragged at a snail's dawdle, patience he'd been thankful for in their office slowly ebbing away.

Charmy, the small Tamed belonging to a nert who's gone for a smoke, is his partner's impromptu guide, even if he knows little of the terminology or process involved with photograph development. His childish enthusiasm and seemingly boundless energy as they flit to each station has Shadow wondering if the Chaotic is simply content with his lot, or actually retarded.

_ Just another errand boy without responsibility, grateful for an opportunity he should have had by right. _

_ Poor, indoctrinated bastard. _

The dissection is bitter, even twenty years after the fact, when he'd been happy with his own existence in the care of a Human household. He'd known nothing else in life, entirely unaware Free Chaotics even existed for the majority of his time with the Professor, but this former naivety in such unusually compassionate care makes his stomach roll with nausea in retrospect.

Eyes now truly open, the dystopia Humanity has created for itself is equal parts impressive and disgusting, a class system based entirely on random genetics Shadow can't stand. Knowing how they'd be treated, given the choice, few would choose to be born Chaotic. The ebon 'hog is no exception; he feels nothing for his kind beyond the lament of their sociological stance and would gladly live again as a Human, to be free of the obligation to try and level the odds using the opportunities he's worked for.

The jackal they're about to visit had a hand in enabling this hierarchical mobility, but as much as he'd prefer to not be indebted to a street gang King-Pin, he also won't go back on his word. The Professor's death was catalytic to their desires overlapping, his desperation to discover the truth the clincher, and now they've both stuck their paws in too many pies, unable to drag the other down without risking their own reputations in tandem.

How different it all could have been, and how close he'd been to death without awareness, the memory always able to send a chill down his spine.

* * *

Ownership rings removed from his wrists and ankles, he takes a moment to hold the heavy, gold bands symbolic of loyalty to his Caretaker. He thumbs unpolished inner curves before skimming a recently shined exterior face, his own residual heat still radiating from every surface. Even with permission it feels wrong to take them off and he almost refits them despite his Owner's reservations.

"Tamed aren't trusted with errands," the elder reminds him, drawing unsure crimsons to his own reflection in dark glasses propped on a large, hooked nose, mirroring the doubt and nerves back on the ebon. "I'll keep them safe, and give them back when you return, my boy."

He glances down at the rings as the last of his body heat fades from them, leaving the metal uncomfortably cold in gloved palms. Were they this cold when he was gifted them? Shadow doesn't remember, but he's still hesitant when nodding and handing the bands over, tracking the elder's hands as they're locked in the hall chest.

"May I ask something?" 

Waiting for permission to speak, pulling restlessly on the vaguely tarnished ring of fabric on his glove, the weight lost with his bands an unsettling sensation. When a soft hum passes his Owner's lips he continues feverently. "If I'm to accompany Miss Maria on errands, shouldn't I be represented as her Tamed, not a recently Freed without funds for appropriate attire? Our affiliation may seem peculiar without some notion of loyalty."

Every second echoes in Shadow's mind while his Master seemingly refuses to answer, palms braced on the locked trunk. On the verge of apologising despite still not being sure what he did wrong, the Professor speaks with an emotion in his tone that quickly defeats any elation he's replies. "I'm afraid she won't be going with you. Maria's condition worsened overnight, and I fear-"

His Owner pauses to take a breath, a lapse in composure the ebon isn't accustomed to. It's worrying, but he's not permitted time to voice any concerns. "She won't drink, and her morning broth remains almost untouched, what little she did sip already regurgitated. City air thick with industrial pollutants will only make her worse, my boy."

"Oh." Eyes drift towards her rooms as another coughing fit grips the teenager, ears lowering slightly as she gasps for breath. The vomiting is a new symptom, but as a side effect of a persistent cough they're struggling to combat the issue. "I could encourage her to eat before I leave-"

"No," the Professor rubs at wrinkles forming on his brow with a defeated sigh, eyes cast to his shoes. When he looks up, the man's features are set like stone, not a line out of place on his fleshy face as he leans in and plants a heavy hand on the ebon's shoulder. "Just read to her for a while. Perhaps she'll fall asleep." 

Physical contact isn't normal for the elder, setting ebon quills on edge before the Professor gives his shoulder a squeeze. "We've a meeting with the Major tomorrow. I need these supplies for Maria's carer, so you may be with me. Seeing Mobian potential first hand, he's sure to back our campaign bill through Congress. So today, you run errands and calm a friend but tomorrow?

"Shadow, tomorrow you'll help change the world."

* * *

Unfocused crimsons sharpen once more on his Junior, the azure watching the flitting bee finish up the picture he'd been developing when the duo walked in with awe, and Shadow presses his lips into a fine line. If he applies that boundless energy to investigative prowess, and can focus his jumpy mind, he'll make an excellent Detective.

_ Yet still I'm not Free; tied to that house through loyalty, trapped in those walls by spilt blood, still Tame by the untimely deaths of everyone I cared for, I'm no more Free now than I was before... _

Born a Free Chaotic, the azure's hasn't the heavy stigma of still-Tamed on his back, naively unencumbered by resentment towards the species who see themselves inherently better than him. Sharp of mind like the ebon, logical and observant under exuberance, he's ready to become a force of justice for his still-repressed people.

Shadow doesn't doubt he'll succeed, wants him to even. If he's exposed the old, unethical deals with a street rat and can see past the lies encasing his mentor's past as the necessities they were, there's a chance to crack the detective's case. With fresh eyes and the enthusiasm for justice a green detective could offer his own experience with cases, they could finally put his ghosts to rest.

_ But… _

_ I'm going to have to tell him everything, aren't I?  _

It was always inevitable, should the partnership become permanent, but he hadn't expected to need to consider revealing his past to the Junior Constable for years, not just months, weeks, or even  _ twelve hours _ since working with the kid. Shadow feels blindsided, especially since the azure's already stuck his nose in the damn file, and it's suffocating the sense of control over life he clings to.

His last memory of his sister, the only friend he's ever had, still haunts the obsidian Chaotic. Pallor so pale she near-enough glowed beneath lamps, the veins beneath thin skin a web of deep purple across atrophic muscles. Cracked lips cringed into a pained smile, fingers consist of mere bone under an opaque sheet of flesh, and her beautiful eyes dulled to resemble the murky sky.

Memories of her happy, healthy states are fading into obscurity with every drink, every restless night awake in fear another part of his family will slip away, driving him to another bottle to numb the pain. Hands beginning to shake and breaths heavy but weakened, Shadow digs his claws into the metal table behind him with a squeal and inhales sharply, both disguising his distress and drawing the Constable's attention back to present matters.

"Time to go, hedgehog." 

Letting them say goodbye without further harassment but more for his own stability, he slips outside to light another smoke, the burning heat that floods his chest barely making a dent in the heavy rock rolling his guts. Shadow leans against the wall and closes his eyes, head rested on the cool plaster as he exhales both smoke and the worst of his anxieties, irritation his hands still sweat and breath still catches tiring to observe.

By the time Sonic emerges with their photos in a brown envelope he's regained some composure, choosing not to speak a while longer as he leads the azure to their car. Having a metophical light to strive for is strange, but at the same time the Detective welcomes it warmly after so many years of uncertainty, tired of drunks on street corners and whores dumped in the river. 

_ This case will bring about the truth. _

_ The end of painfully constant memories. _

_ I'll discern those responsible and bring them to justice. _

_ Then, we can finally rest. As a family. _


	3. Tangled Webs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonic gets a little background before they get to the hideout, and Infinite laments the death of a pup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your help, Zee!

**CHAPTER THREE: TANGLED WEBS**

Heavy silence hangs between them, a suffocating weight the ebon isn't accustomed to while navigating Westside Central. Glancing at his partner, he notes Sonic's focus isn't within the vehicle but outside, his incessant mouth finally quietened with arms folded tightly over his chest. The edge of a frown pulls his lips down while a leg bobs irritably, neither suited to his youthful exuberance.

Having offended many people in his life, another tally on the metaphorical wall would normally be as irrelevant as their unwanted opinion, but the disgruntled expression on this kid's face makes his chest tight. Obviously being ignored, Shadow turns his attention back to the road, tightens his grip on the wheel and digs in his pockets for gaspers he knows are there in thinly-veiled discomfort.

_Why do I care what he thinks?_

_He invaded my privacy, should apologise to me._

_Yet somehow, I feel like the asshole._

While he might have just been being proactive, Shadow can't shake his innate protectiveness of his family's case, one that's kept him working even as new leads dried up and informants soured. He's protected it from closure, defended its importance in numerous meetings with the board of directors, and Chaos be damned if he's going to let some nosey Junior fuck up the last twenty years of careful steps and gathered intelligence.

But at the same time, the detective knows he's going to have to share the case with him; the kid should know, if they're to be partners for the duration of his training. It's only fair to give Sonic a chance to back out, but even more importantly he can't _help_ with the case if he hasn't read the old file Shadow locked in a drawer.

They enter the Lower Westside district in silence, only a click of the ebon's lighter and a rustling of fabric cutting the tension in his old cruiser. Shadow hates it here; the empty streets and abandoned homes all look familiar, shells identical to his old home reminders of what he used to have, and how suddenly he lost everything.

* * *

_Fire._

_He was gone forty minutes, the only time he's left the house in memory, to get groceries for the day. Chaotics weren't trusted with such things - Gerald said so himself - and Shadow had been anxious, taking his time to be sure he got the right items and didn't miss anything. Walking back he'd been proud of his efforts, confident he'd done it all correctly, only to crest the last hill and be greeted with flames._

_There aren't words to describe it; chest hollow except for a growing need to vomit, heavy feet at odds with the compulsion to sprint home and dive into the inferno, to search for his family, giving his life in the hope at least one of theirs will be spared. Everything the ebon knows is being reduced to cinders before his eyes yet he can't move, frozen by an overwhelming surge of-_

_SMASH._

_Hands having gone slack, the glass milk bottle in numb fingers falls and shatters at his feet, startling the hedgehog out of the shock overtaking his senses only to be forced to process what's happening in excruciating detail; flames engulf the middle of his home, the vibrant dancing of orange and red deceptively beautiful against thick smoke pouring out of a cavernous hole developing in the roof, scalding hot air thick with ash and debris._

_As strong as the desire is to help, logic tells him to sprint in the other direction, to remove himself from the area as swiftly as possible, to hide from the humans swarmed around the epicentre of his entire existence. He's seen the news and read the papers; he knows of the stigma others of his kind face. If his family perishes, they'll pin it on him in a heartbeat for an open-shut case._

_But he can't run as that devastating thought becomes a very real possibility. His legs give out, Shadow falling to his knees with a wet crunch of glass and spilled milk. The white hue taints to baby pink swirled by fresh blood but it's all inconsequential, nothing compared to the tight, very physical pain surging through his heart._

_They might be dead._

_He sucks in a breath, unable to suppress the pained gasp in his voice box, limbs beginning to shake as tears well in crimson corners. Shadow has imagined death before to prepare for Maria's inevitable passing, but to potentially have lost them both suddenly, with no time to prepare-_

_Raw emotion suddenly floods every cell, neuron, atom of the hedgehog's existence. Ruby-striped forearms hit the ground with another crunch and gloved hands cup head quills, the hedgehog entirely dulled to the glass tearing his flesh, the smoke and fire. Bystander screams as more roofing caves, authoritative orders from the police and the firefighters tackling the blaze go unheard, the world muted as his whole world collapses around his shaking, sobbing frame._

* * *

Every identical, cookie-cuttered home with faux-wooden veneer stirs nausea, the varying bright veneer facades of individuality still present even in dereliction burning his retinas; yards squared away in picket fences matted with foot-high grasses and weeds, peeling paints and rotting wooden features. The only difference is which windows are busted, yet even they're covered in identical sheets of cork board, warnings scrawled in crimson paint.

**DANGER! DERELICT BUILDING!**

**ENTRY STRICTLY PROHIBITED; NO TRESPASSING!**

Another home the same, cork sheet instead of a front door and ivy climbing the exterior, roots delving into the building's mortar and destabilising its core. The deeper they get the worse each house becomes, spiralling away from an origin point of tragic loss that killed the vibrant and friendly neighbourhood, and for what?

Twenty years have passed slow and torturous, every day another slog through Human politics and a career meant to scupper his advance at every turn, but Shadow _still_ can't claim to definitively know the motive and it hurts. Seeing exposed rafters rotting beneath resilient charring of wood, the cracked tiles hanging precariously over the gaping wound in the roof, and unkept yard previously so pristine after such a strong memory is too much.

Shadow's breath seizes; he can smell the burning wood and feel the ash in his fur, screams for help singing in his ears, the unyielding sorrow realising his family were still inside as fresh as it had been two decades previous. Too tired to manage it, far too sober to draw on composure reserved and cig shuddering between uncertain lips, the detective makes a sudden swerve.

Sonic clutches at the door frame with a shout and jams a foot between the console and dashboard, jerked sideways by momentum until they stop just as suddenly. Body thrown forwards when Shadow presses the breaks so hard gears grind and the engine stalls they're plunged into silence, sillness punctuated by the click of heated metal and heavy breaths of the two hedgehogs inside 

Pressing his forehead to the leather steering wheel cover, crimson eyes flutter shut, subsequent darkness as much a relief from stimulus as it is detriment. The fog of depression compounds freely and tiredness floods his body, leadening limbs and clouding all logic as he takes a deep, shaking breath in an attempt to ground himself.

_God, I still miss them so much..._

"Shad- Sir?" Soft words cut through the melancholy and drag the unwilling ebon detective from the depths of his dark psyche. Back in the present, bile swills in his gut with a potency that distracts him even from the muted tones grating on frayed, overstimulated nerves. "If you need a drink that bad, I'm sure Aimes would-"

" _I don't need a drink_." 

It's a lie; every conscious neuron in his skull screams for the numbness alcohol brings, his throat craving the burn of hard liquor so hard even the heat of the gasper hanging from weak lips won't satiate the need. But the bar won't be open for hours - exact time dependent on how rough the clientele were with each other last night, and while he woke unscathed besides a pounding head from excess, the vague recollection of piss and a tang of blood suggested some other fucker wasn't so lucky.

Flexing shaking fingers and disappointed by their lack of stability, Shadow slowly straightens and rests back in the driver's seat with eyes still closed, has a long drag on his gasper and takes it from his lips with two fingers. Sonic daren't speak as he quietly returns to a relaxed position, watching Shadow rest his arm and smoking cig rested on the car door while staring ahead in uneasy silence.

He takes more drags, burning the cigarette down to the tip, flicking it into the drizzle and retrieving another in less than a minute. Sonic notes the unsteadiness in his hands but for the sake of his own health decides not to comment, though it's difficult to watch him struggle for longer than it took to smoke a cig to light another.

"I joined the SSPD two decades ago," he states, tan lips muffling his words to keep the cig in place. Pausing to take a long drag of the fresh gasper, it's a few seconds before pinching it between two fingers and letting the smoke flood from his lungs. "Twenty years of gangs and sleepless nights, of drug runners and snitches, bodies of women and children discarded in the river."

Shadow pauses for another long drag, distant crimsons finally turning on the azure as he breathes out another lungful of smoke with a hard expression. "If you'll take umbridge I'm keeping secrets, you'll do well to go home with your sanity still intact. These criminals will threaten everything you hold dear, constantly mislead any investigation, and take great pleasure describing exactly _how_ they gutted a hooker, threw her entrails to the birds and disposed of the body in a meat grinder."

Watching the colour slowly drain from his junior's face the ebon grimaces internally, a flurry of guilt stirring in his stomach with every word. Disregarding the denial of needing a drink though, everything else has been truth; his psyche irreparably damaged by all he's uncovered of those stalking the streets, Shadow relies upon the vices he'll deny needing to keep a level head. The thought of guiding this idealistic youngster down the same slippery slope is worse than any regret of warding him off. 

"It isn't just a job, nor is it for the fainthearted." 

Another pause to finish his burner before flicking it out into the rain as carelessly as the first, hard ruby stare locked on those quivering jades. "Once you get a badge, your life will revolve around the scum of the city without reprieve. Crimes will haunt your waking hours _and_ your nightmares from the moment they occur, persisting until you question your own sanity or drop stone dead."

The ebon's expression softens, eyes becoming distant as he looks away, gaze falling on the burned husk of home across the street. Hands fall heavily to his lap as the seconds pass slowly, the _rata-tats_ of rain on metal like gunshots creating a personal purgatory of white noise.

Shadow breaks the silence with a sharp inhale filled with emotions he refuses to express, continuing in a soft tone that prompts the azure to follow his gaze to his burned home. "I hope your perseverance is motivated by more than heroic ideology, Constable; after twenty years with the SSPD, I've yet to meet anyone not destroyed by the truth of this cesspit city's underworld."

When he does respond some minutes later, Sonic's tone is soft and inflective, eyes clouded by memory when the ebon turns back to the younger. "I grew up in Old Lower Westside. It's full of Freed families packed in tiny homes, but Unc says it's still better than being Owned, like his Ma and Pop." 

The cerulean takes a deep breath and meets thoughtful rubies with a determined spark. "So maybe it's a bit of a hero complex, 'cause it bothers me some guys feel more like a possession than a person, being told what to do or what they can eat, or punished for voicing their opinion. Don't they deserve to be Free like us? Just imagine it-"

"Pure fantasy." Shadow throws the car into gear, casting his junior a sidelong glance as he clutches at the break. "The world doesn't care for your idyllic fairness, and I have no intention of leading a fresh lamb to slaughter. Save yourself the heartbreak; quit the force and go fuck that skirt before reality destroys your lust for existence."

As his mentor gun the gas, glancing back to watch the derelict house disappear into the dull smog, only to turn his frown on Shadow as he sinks back into the passenger seat. "What happened to you in that house, Shads?"

"I told you not to call me that," the detective retorts, a brief glance back to Sonic, expression matching his tired tone before his gaze returns to the road with a sigh. "If you insist on staying, we can discuss it later. For now, the Squad will have informed their boss of our approach, and I usually don't have company. Prepare for hostility."

Sonic blinks, quills bristling slightly, information in his mind snapping together with sudden clarity as their car pulls to a stop. "Wait, our vic was a jackal. We're going to a _Squad_ hideout? I thought we'd meet some middle man, not the _boss_ of the _Jackal Squad_ . How d'you even _know_ the guy enough to-?"

" _Later_ ," the elder cuts him off with a flick of the lighter lid, smoking cigarette caught between tan lips as he slips the Zippo away. "Follow my lead and stay quiet. So long as you maintain the pretence of naivety his grunts won't touch you, so try not to agitate them in my absence." 

The cerulean nods in agreement before doing a double take, concern written on his muzzle as Shadow pops the door to slide out. " _Ab_ _sence?_ You can't meet a bloody gang leader all by yourself! You don't even have a gun!"

"I do what I want. Besides," the detective leans back in to dig under the driver's seat, extracting a police issue pistol moments later. He brandishes it for Sonic to see before shoving the firearm into his belt, features a mask of disinterest. "Worry about your own safety; gangsters have no tolerance for officers - especially those they're unfamiliar with - so do what you're told, understand?"

Shadow straightens and slams the door, which prompts the azure to scramble out as well, the junior detective's anxious tone muted by heavy rain. "What I'm told…?"

The detective's cig flares red on inhale, a shimmer of red setting sharp crimsons alight with fiery reflections that dull when he takes the stick from pursed lips. Exhaling clouds of smoke almost indiscernible from city smog in the low, almost hypnotic muted daylight, intense gaze locking with jades as he snaps his collar against the chill.

"Keep your hands in sight and your mouth shut," the ebon clarifies over the pounding of water on concrete as he leads Sonic not into the nearest home but down the street to another, even more degraded shell. When the junior catches up, Shadow's speaks in a low pensive tone that sends a shudder of anxiety up the youngster's spine. "Follow my lead, and try not to get yourself killed. 

"Think you can handle that Constable?"

-

Infinite hates surprises, a control freak when it came to avoiding the unexpected, even if an innate ability to roll with whatever life threw at him has only been cultivated over the years. But the spontaneity of others seems to _always_ bite him in the ass, and it's a source of stress.

This morning has been very troubling, not only learning that their newest cub has been slain but the drugs he'd been moving were gone. Hundreds of Mobiums worth of Dust washed into the sewers or stripped from the boy's corpse by his assailant, the thought of whom sets the battle-scarred Jackal's blood boiling with a flame he thought had extinguished over a decade ago, long after forcefully taking Freedom from his dirtbag Owner.

On top of Nack's side-gang gaining strength, the police interest they've caused is more than can be modulated without suspicion, limiting the Squad to Old and Lower Westside for the foreseeable future. Any aspirations of expansion into Central shut down by police presence and his favourite source of stress-relief conspicuously absent, he's nearing the end of a rapidly burning tether.

Aware his hand has begun to shake, Infinite flexes dark digits before placing the pen down with an unnecessary show of care. Taking a deep breath he leans forwards, plants both elbows on the desk and steeples long fingers under his white muzzle, glaring at the door opposite as a heavy sense of unease that smothers logical focus with unsettling anxiety.

_"I'll beat the weakness out of you, Chaotic."_

It's a dead man's threat, but his ghost chills the jackal's spine and makes the scar above his eye sting. The man deserved to have his throat ripped out by his "pet's" teeth, perhaps deserving to suffer more than Infinite permitted while drowning in rage and fear, but the gang leader doesn't remember his frenzied attack.

He's reflected on the irony of his Owner's success a few times; whatever unconscious slivers of emotion keeping him subjugated fled his body with the searing pain in his brow and blood flowing freely into his right eye. Literally seeing red through the sting of body fluid, he'd barely registered the human's screams for mercy until they all but silenced, forced back to reality by the texture of supple flesh between fangs and metallic tang of blood.

Life since has been interesting. Leaving the man's corpse to be discovered by one of his distasteful associates he'd fled the home, only to end up drawing the attention of a local gang leader through frequent fights on the streets of Old Lower Westside. Attempts to press-gang the new jackal into joining quickly escalated, forcing the leader to step in and save face against the young upstart, only to be cut down without mercy by the ex-fighter's anger.

The remaining gang members had been rightfully afraid, none daring to challenge the guy who just ripped their previous boss to shreds. Movements unchallenged and with nowhere else to go, he'd filled his stomach on their supplies, barricading himself within a room to lick his wounds and get some uneasy sleep, fully intending to leave the following morning with what he could carry.

Except the gang seemed to accept his victory, treating it like a power transfer; they skirted on eggshells offering spare clothes, the dead boss' office and all the resources hoarded inside with unquestioning obedience. Finding himself in privacy, presented with more food than he'd ever seen at once and the hideout's stale air thick with fearful respect, he'd experienced actual power.

It'd felt good. So the jackal had decided to keep it.

Despising his ring alias and with no name to speak of, he'd started using 'Infinite', intended to instil fear in his rivals whilst alluding to lofty, unencumbered aspirations of his snatched freedom. Composed primarily of jackals abandoned on the street, the runts not worth rearing and Escaped quickly became like a family, with loyalty and respect resting at the heart of the trusting dynamic.

Unfortunately his Owner's death hadn't gone unnoticed, the absence of any Chaotic despite the associated cages and paraphernalia, plus the state of his mauled corpse, a damning lead for the SSPD. Keeping a low profile was his priority, but as the family grew he also needed to make more money, leading to the Squad's involvement in drug trafficking, petty crimes and intimidation rackets in Old Westside, a district already so flooded with crime their movements went primarily unnoticed.

_Until that treacherous bastard fucked me over. Nack the weasel, of which a slimier example of his species has yet to be discovered._

Infinite's lip unconsciously curls, flashing fangs at the thought of his only true regret so far; Nack had been just another in need, a runt tolerated by a family until mauling his Owner's kid. He'd claimed the kid assaulted him first and reacted in self-defence, and with his own history of abuse the jackal had taken him in more from pity than necessity. The guy was scrawny and short, injuries infected and likely suffering malnutrition, his clipped fur missing in clumps on the shoulders and back where a blistering rash spread beneath the pelt.

He'd healed well, though; fur growing back in patches as his diet and health improved, he became one of his smartest and most flexible Squad members. Infinite would bounce ideas off the scheming weasel, discussing what to do about rivals invading his ever-expanding territory on a regular basis, making use of Nack's logical thought patterns and inherently violent nature.

While he hates to admit it, the jackal didn't notice Nack worming his way into the minds of those at the bottom of the hierarchy, poisoning their discontented position with thoughts of rebellion and greater possibility. Barely six months after being taken in the weasel fractured the Squad nearly in half, those unhappy with being beneath those more trusted attempting an aggressive takeover in Nack's name, though it was squashed in minutes.

Upon learning the cowardly weasel had already fled the hideout Infinite had lost his composure. In a rage, he'd ripped out the throats of those who'd directly attacked him, relentless even when they begged for forgiveness and lost control of their bowels or bladders. Only once they all lie dead did Infinite demand any co-conspirators either issue honourable challenges or slink off like their cowardly ringleader, never to return.

Maw stained with the fresh blood of their accomplices, claws spraying thick droplets of warm liquid with every gesture, all of them had fled for the Central District. But the damage had already been done; the Squad weaker by over a third of its members, fear of Infinite reignited in those who remained, the gang recovered slowly while his new rival took over Central unhindered.

Tensions still high and his Squad unsettled, reports of an unfamiliar hedgehog skulking around a recently burned house in Lower Westside raised the jackal's hackles. The hedgehog could be anyone, perhaps the Chaotic missing from the burned out husk's victim list, potentially their murderer and a kindred spirit, but equally likely was him scouting the territory for another gang. 

A survivor, a murderer or doing a shite job of laying low while scouring the district, Infinite got his men watching the hedgehog, planning to make contact at the earliest opportunity. A decision that changed so much, so fast.

"Boss." 

Mismatched irises constrict to focus on his trusted right hand, an ex-ring fighter deformed by an Owner; mottled scarring encases the remnants of previously large ears, any unnecessary flesh and cartilage flayed away to make him harder to grab. A practice despised even by most in fighting circles, Infinite can attest to its effectivity after a few fights with those forcefully altered. 

_Though poorly formed scars also make very painful pressure points..._

Casting the thought aside, he offers a slight nod to the battered jackal as he resumes updating his ledgers, ears pert and attentive. "Your detective's just pulled up, boss. Guessin' it's about the kid."

Infinite grunts an acknowledgement without looking up. He's already aware DCI Shadow attended the kid's body in the wee hours, his own scout relaying the detective's analysis of the scene within the hour. His reported shake is worrying but is evidently still an effective officer, able to discern the kid's murder and gang identification from physical clues and the taste of his Dust. "Is he sober? Ash said he was crashing hard this morning."

"Looks like. Guess he'll need waterin'. Dunno about the other hedgehog, though."

Hand tightening without consent, the jackal's pen jerks and scores through the previous week's accounts with a thick black mark before he can drop it, uncaring when it rolls to the floor. Frustration at its peak, he grabs hold of the offending page and rips it violently out of the ledger, then slams both in a desk drawer with far more force than necessary, the _bang_ of wood echoed by bare walls that has his disfigured right-hand flinch.

When he looks up with claws scratching the old table's surface in irritation, Infinite's face is tight with anger, lips curled back to bare his teeth as this last surprise brings the jackal's emotions to boil. _"What other hedgehog?"_


	4. Unexpected Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonic learns some truths he'd rather not know, and makes some concerning assumptions.

**CHAPTER FOUR: UNEXPECTED EXPOSURE**

The first thing to hit the cerulean is the smell; while the rooms they pass through seem tidy, the air is thick with damp and mold, a repulsive scent with obvious cause. Greyed portions of ceiling plaster drip rhythmically into filling buckets, sodden paper peels from walls and thick sheens of black line the skirting boards and climb door frames, attempts at its removal evidently abandoned a long time ago.

Next comes the raucous laughter of men and a woman, the holler declaring someone a cheat while another brushes it off as mere luck. They follow the sound and ever-thickening cloud of smoke to a large room off the kitchen filled to capacity with bodies and furniture; a long table seating twelve falls into silence when the detective enters, every pair of amber eyes quickly shifting to Sonic as he brings up the rear, silence as thick as the choking intensity of hot smoke and cheap beer permeating the crowded space.

Approximately seven in every ten is a jackal, the piercing amber irises unnerving the junior detective enough he's quick to return to Shadow's side. The rest are a myriad of Chaotics, most of them predator subspecies; red and grey, plus a few fennec foxes, a raccoon with tufts of fur missing around deep scars across broad shoulders and a scruffy cat with one eye, other empty socket sickeningly dark pink within.

More concerningly, there's three kids in the three-dozen strong gang, and while they don't appear to be drinking, the stub of a burning smoke hangs from the lips of a grey vulpine surely not yet even ten. Sonic forces a smile and sidles closer to his superior, voice a whisper. "Shads, I don't think that kid-"

The ebon pinches his ear between two fingers and gives it a hard tug that has him draw a gasp of surprise and discomfort, an unsettling chuckle rising from the table as he's reprimanded with annoyance echoed in the ebon's sharp tone. "Unless you can act the part keep your mouth shut. I've no intention of defending your stupidity, nor bailing you out of a fuck up, understand?"

The azure swallows with a nervous nod, felt ears folding as the ebon turns to hang his hat and coat on an already overflowing rack, only to snap back around when a door slams open and a young fennec is thrust out of the room by an ear. 

With a yelp of pain as sharp claws nick flesh he stumbles a few steps before regaining his balance, and turns back to his assailant with injured ear hung awkwardly aside. Silence descends upon the room with enough weight to stifle the air in Sonic's lungs, but it's the jackal looming in the doorframe that has his stomach roll with nausea. 

Everyone in Station Square knows of Infinite the jackal. Recognised by unusual dichromatic irises and notorious for defeating the Beast of Westside with ease, ripping the Beast's throat out with bare teeth before taking the gang as his own without a flinch. 

First impressions only add to the rumours; an opaque amber iris upstaged by the other's piercing blue, heavily built frame clothed in a tailored, dark blue suit in stark contrast to monochromatic fur. Hair far longer than average flows between ears, large appendages covered in nicks and scars that also pepper his face, but the most noticable is a thick welting slice through his right brow, revealing a touch too much of white around turquoise iris where his skin puckers beneath a badly healed scar. 

Infinite's presence is imposing enough without sneering lips and flashed canines, or long, dark claws digging into the doorframe deep enough to score wood, fueling the anxious fire building Sonic's bones.

" _I_ decide what's important, pup. Next time, you'll report _everything_ you observe next or be back on laundry, got it?" He doesn't wait for a response before eyes rake the room, mismatched gaze freezing on the azure for an extended beat, Sonic ashamed of his relief when they snap to Shadow. The jackal's dark claws flex and relax slightly as the gangster's body straightens, speaking in an oddly measured tone. "Detective."

He's unnerved to feel the ebon tense beside him, but a glance to his senior reveals nothing; his expression is as flat as always, crimsons locked to dichromats. "Jackal."

Time seemingly slowed, it snaps back into motion as the canid returns to his office without another word, the card game and banter resuming instantaneously. His mentor relaxes a little and returns to hanging his coat, but the air tension continues to suffocate the azure with a realisation that chills his blood.

_Shadow's nervous._

_If he's afraid of the guy why meet in his hideout?_

"Don't go in there." The words pass peach lips before he can stop them. They continue to flood out in an anxious tirade as Shadow turns to face him, his muscles aquiver with nerves beneath his azure pelt. "Whatever you've gotten into or owe him, we can figure it out back at the station, can't we? You don't need to do anything."

The ebon's features twist into a strange combination of confusion and pity. "Stop fretting and take a pew. Play a hand or two. I'll be back shortly."

With that he turns, not looking back as he crosses the room and heads into the office, closing the door with a soft click lost to the raucous laughter of the gang. Sonic doesn't take his hat and coat off though, nor move from his spot, worried emeralds locked on the closed door as nausea swirls in his guts.

_What in Chaos' name is he wrapped up in?_

-

The jackal's office has changed very little over the years; carpet refreshed, desk replaced by an equally damaged antique, but still papers litter the floor and overflow out of boxes and files. A faded armchair acts as a throne of sorts and opposite, an older chair stands for his subject of choice to regard Infinite with fearful awe.

Shadow isn't one of these peasants. 

He refuses to boost the jackal's ego unnecessarily, sitting only when a decanter is shared or business important enough to require paper and pen arises. Infinite tends to relax in his chair regardless, an air of control and calm offset against the hedgehog's innate irritability, so his continued standing as he pours out liquor is concerning.

Crimson orbs skim the room as he closes the door with a gentle click. Shadow can see nothing amiss, but can't keep his focus from the deep amber liquid flowing into glass tumblers. His heartbeat rises and breaths catch, fingers flexing with a need to drink so potent, he barely acknowledges the jackal necking a shot before pouring another, an unusual abuse of liquor for the gangster.

"I hope you're here with a lead," Infinite says quietly, an amber eye peering over his shoulder before looking away, returning the stopper to his decanter. "Hick'd only been with us a week. It was his _first_ job, Detective. Out of the pan and right into the fire I should've protected him from _,_ so _tell me_ _you have a lead."_

The ebon watches him take a sip of his second measure, predominantly dark palm splayed on the desk as hackles flexing with discomfort, long tail fluffed and left on the ground. It's abnormal; the jackal never allowed any form of weakness to be expressed, so for him to be hunched over his desk with a drink in hand is concerning.

But Shadow can't focus, mind continually skipping back to the tumbler of whiskey presumably with his name on it, and eventually desperate crimsons follow. His mouth dries at the mere thought of satiating that emptiness keeping his brain distracted; it's been over twelve hours since he passed out drunk on the sticky bar at _Rouge's_ , returning sobriety bringing painful memories and- 

" _Jesus Christ_." 

The words barely register, but the slam of Infinite's glass on the desk shocks his senses back to reality, to irritated and deadly mis-matched irises of an advancing jackal. Dark quills bristle defensively and ears fold back, the distance between them rapidly shrinking. "Are you listening? Or is the incessant siren call of drink more important than my innocent pup's _murder_?"

Shadow bares his teeth. "I'm here for information-"

" _Bullshit,_ " the gangster snarls and shoves him with open palms, an attempt at releasing some frustration "You're here for a damn _fix_ , you useless fucking drunkard _._ Not get enough at the bar last night? Was my pup's death an inconvenience to the ritualistic marinade of brains with liquor? Please, do accept my _humblest apologies-_ "

Affronted by the shove, tan lips curl back as he pushes the jackal back with a growl. "Because you're a fucking _saint_ ? _You_ sent the kid out with drugs in his jacket and a warped sense of loyalty. _You_ put the kid in harm's way, Infinite. I get to pick up the pieces of _your_ mistake, but somehow _I'm_ the culprit? Snorting all that low grade soda in your damned product killed your brain."

A fist balls the detective's shirt and pulls him muzzle to muzzle, the snarl in Shadow's face carrying the scent of whiskey on hot breath, taunting his growing desperation for a drink. "My boys get a chance to make something of themselves and in return, they respect my authority. We don't get high on the supply, _certainly_ not on the job, and they know to show _respect_ . You should heed their example, sober up and _back the fuck off._ "

The detective grabs the monochrome fist, wrenches it from his shirt and leans in closer still with a rumbling growl, not flinching in the face of his old acquaintance's fury. "Your kid had _your_ Dust on his shirt, so the shit you pedal _is_ my lead. Either he was lit as fuck and passed out in an alley or got jumped by a buyer, so I need names, jackal. Anyone waiting on last night's drop is suspect, no matter how small their order."

"I'm not giving you shit," the gangster asserts quietly, a challenge in his tone. Shadow knows better than to rise to it, though he hisses in discomfort as the jackal grabs a handful of quills and tugs him in close enough for their muzzles to touch. "You know if word gets out I snitched on the clientele, buyers will dry up. It's not worth _my_ loss of revenue to assist _your_ investigation."

"So not worth justice for your dead pup either?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth Shadow knows he pushed too far, the fist in his quills tightening instantly. But the blow he expects never comes; something in the jackal simmers and the fire leaves his gaze for a distant sadness, hand unravelling from quills without even a tug before he turns away. "Get out of my office and do your damned job, detective. We're done here."

He steps away and downs his glass, only to retrieve the second and sip it in a hunched position, silence falling between them until without a backwards glance, Infinite adds sharply. "I said _out_ , Shadow. Before I make you."

Normally he'd challenge such a threat, but the jackal's odd behaviour throws Shadow's defiance out a window, leaving in its place a disconcerted heaviness. It doesn't temper his anger though. After hours waiting for useless photos and his only lead stopped in its tracks, the ebon snarls in frustration, whirls on his heels and stalks out, making sure to slam the door behind him for emphasis.

The boys falling silent, the ebon scours the room for his Junior only to find him still standing by the coat rack, his shoulders tense, hat and coat still on, jade irises wide in a curious mixture of fear and concern. Not bothering to voice his intentions Shadow starts to leave, letting Sonic scramble for his hat and coat and jogging to catch.

"It… it didn't go well?" Shadow grunts and snatches his hat, placing it between pert ears with little care before swinging his coat on. Not buttoning it before he digs for a cigarette, they're already outside as he lights it, and an anxious energy burns in the azure's legs. "Did something happen? I heard shouting and-"

"The bastard was exceptionally useless," the ebon states with a billow of smoke, shake in his hand and ungainly stride worryingly prominent as they walk briskly back to the car. "We'll return to the precinct and document the dead lead, then chase up that autopsy. Though it's likely it won't be formalised until morning, Von Schlemmer can summarise."

Shadow flicks his butt into the gutter and yanks open the driver side door. "We'll discuss them at the bar later. First, I have the tedious job of updating the file. You can be responsible for making the coffee."

-

Coffee turns out to be easy as refilling mugs from an old metal kettle the interns kept fresh and full. Sonic returns to their office in minutes with one in each hand and a biscuit between his teeth, just able to work the handle and push the door inwards with his hip. 

His mentor has already begun working and doesn't look up from writing his report, left hand working at an awkward angle to not smudge the ink before it can dry. It makes his handwriting sharp and angular on the page, what uncle Chuck would call 'chicken scratches'. 

Silently thankful for being right-handed he goes to place a mug on the desk only, to falter at the last second, just able to avoid spilling its contents all over the old, thick folder. All paperclips and creased pages, he's certain it's the same file Shadow locked in his drawer earlier. Not only is it now in plain sight, but open to pages of his mentor's angular penmanship. 

Eyes still on the file, Sonic places their drinks down with care then flips through the seemingly endless reams of observations, leads that all ultimately end the same; a dead end. Scores of dates suggest hundreds of updates, and some quick math has his jaw slacken as the azure casts Shadow an incredulous look.

"You've worked this case for seventeen years?!" When all the detective offers in response is a snort, his junior detective flops into the dusty armchair opposite and drags the folder closer, thumbing through the mass of information the ebon gathered in almost two decades. "Christ on a cracker, Shads. All that time, all these dead leads… don't you think it's time to pack it in?"

His hand stops briefly as fingers flex against the pen, and for a moment Sonic wonders if he's about to be stabbed in the jugular with said pen until calm spontaneously returns to the detective, smooth tip slashing across the page again. "I'm trying to work, hedgehog. Be quiet and read the damned thing. We'll discuss its contents later."

The junior detective puffs his cheeks and pouts, but his mentor doesn't even glance up from his work, the drone of lethargic ceiling fan blades and scratch of his pen are all that interrupts the ensuing silence. Mildly frustrated but at least reassured the ebon intends to address it later, Sonic huffs out a breath and settles back in his chair for the long haul; a knee over the other and folder balanced on thighs, steaming coffee in hand as he reads the short initial report.

\- - 

_07/08/23_

_DCI Abraham Towers_

_Superintendent Dr. Eggman_

_Robotnik Double-Murder/ Arson_

**_Professor Gerald Robotnik [57yrs]_ **

_Brief_ _: Psychologist Chaotics Activist [pro-rights] working as proofreader for Enigma (Psychology Journal); due to attend conference 08/08/23 to present work on Chaotic Intelligence. Declared dead on site._

 _Cause of Death_ _: single, small calibre shot into the brain via the roof of his mouth, instant death; dead when set aflame [no blackening of lungs/ trachea/ mouth]; prints destroyed by flame._

 _Motives_ _:Intimate; highly targeted; likely a relative, but could be a disgruntled employee/ opposing candidate; could be a botched robbery/ financial motive, with arson to cover cause of death. Further investigation required._

**_Miss Maria Anne Robotnik [15yrs]_ **

_Brief_ _: Suffering with Consumption; chair/ housebound; would leave home with Gerald [Grandfather] rarely. Not expected to live beyond 19yrs. Declared dead on site._

 _Cause of Death_ _: single, small calibre shot into the brain from back of the skull, instant death; no soot in lungs as with Pr. R; blood evidence suggests dragged to the living area from her bedroom to set aflame, destroying prints._

 _Motives_ _: Suspected collateral damage; may have been sleeping when shot point-blank in back of head._

**_Evidence of Note:_ **

_\- murder weapon [ballistics from both victims match] absent from crime scene; bullets recovered in autopsy._

_\- some valuables [jewellery box/ wallet] stolen, but Pr. R still wearing Rolex/ M.R monogrammed jewellery._

_\- research and findings used to start fire, along with the flammable clothing of deceased and evidence of gas._

**_Additional Notes:_ **

_Quarters for Chaotic found inside altered closet in M.R's room, appearing recently lived in. Unwashed mug, lamp left on, bedsheets used; no record of ownership suggests illegal acquisition of Chaotic "pet". Discarded Ownership bands found locked in the hall chest._

**_Suspect(s) and Response(s)_ ** _:_

_Rogue Chaotic; team to be dispatched in Old Westside to search for suspicious individuals unable to provide Freed Papers. Involvement of resident gang "The Jackal Squad" to be investigated, any uncooperative members detained for questioning. No further action required._

**_Update [24/08/23]:_ **

_No Chaotic in Old Westside; TJS give full compliance and alibis confirmed, no new leads. "Cold" status applied._

\- -

Sonic wrinkles his nose at the sparse report, placing his mug down before flipping through the autopsy reports. As expected they're just as bare, the minimum required to confirm the Detective Chief Inspector's conclusion of a Chaotic gone rogue; bullets were extracted and marks matched, both airways checked for soot or damage, and as typical of two decades ago no trace evidence besides a failed attempt to extract fingerprints.

Its sloppy, even for the 20s; no sketched crime scene or material taken from the fire, the accelerant assumed by burn patterns, and upon the discovery of a Chaotic's room the other suspects were all dropped. Barely two weeks after its filed as 'cold' and left to rot until Shadow reopened it three years later, all because DCI Towers seemed to develop a speciesist tunnel-vision.

In contrast, Shadow's notes seem excessive.

Organised not chronologically but by document type, each witness statement, fresh lead or further inquiry is grouped with its fellows, providing snapshots of the case from different perspectives. Sonic can follow his mentor through every inquiry or interview uninterrupted, slowly beginning to understand how Shadow became so jaded and with it, the likely source of obsession with the case. 

"Ask." The detective's voice slices through his focus, an unexpected and sharp sound in the weighted silence. He glances up to hard crimsons, own jades wavering as they skim down to Shadow's stilled hand and the lack of nib scratches on paper. This lost rhythm adds to the unease raising his hackles, phasing out until the ebon clicks his fingers. "Ask before I lose my patience, hedgehog."

An abstract affirmation that makes his stomach sink into his loafers with pity. Having barely been two when his Dad passed and never met his Mom, he feels absence in place of their loss, a void others filled with affection in their stead. Ruby eyes glazed and unfocused and tan lips pulled into a frown, the obsidian looks so deeply tired, world-weary beyond sleeplessness now becoming clear to the naive youngster.

"I thought it was your first cold case," Sonic states in a quiet tone, glancing back to the file and the old, faded monochromatic photograph clipped to the next sheet. An old man wider than he is tall stands behind a frail girl in a wheelchair, the latter smiling while the other frowns behind thick glasses, upper lip lost in bushy moustache. "Committed to prove something to Eggman or whatever, but the missing Chaotic… it's you, isn't it?"

He doesn't reply, but the subtle shift in posture speaks volumes, as does the hard swallow and averted gaze. "I didn't realise-"

"No one else has either," Shadow interrupts, digging in waistcoat pockets for the cigarette carton and extracting both a cigarette and lighter, voice unnervingly calm for such a topic. "Sensitive information that doesn't leave this room, do you understand? I can't solve a case from a Big House, and I doubt Eggman would allow my incarceration anywhere but Prison Island."

Sonic cringes at the mention of Station Square's most notoriously brutal prison, aptly named for its position on an island of rocks and forest, dead-centre of the widest part of the river. Full of murderers, paedophiles, rapists, and those strongly opposed to equality, every Chaotic admitted has died within the year. "Kinda harsh."

"Hardly." The detective pauses to light his smoke, taking a deep breath of burning nicotine before continuing on the exhale. "My papers were forged by the Jackal Squad, I've been working beneath him for nearly twenty years on said papers, and continually utilised Infinite and his boys for intelligence gathering. With those deaths on my back as well, Prison Island would probably be a short stint on death row before I'm executed for double homicide."

The details sink in slowly, until Sonic bawks in disgust and physically reels away from the desk. "What? No! They couldn't! Could they…?" His mentor's stare is bland and glassy as he takes another drag, spurring the azure to continue. "Seriously, you're innocent, I know you are! No one works a case that long unless it hurts right in the chest, so I _know_ you just wanna see it solved."

Closing the file, Sonic keeps it in his lap with a palm on the weathered cover, previously soft gaze hardening at the edges. "Let me keep this, see if I can spot something worth pursuing tonight, okay? Fresh eyes and all. I can't just sit on that kinda information or let 'em frame you for murder, Shads. I'd never forgive myself. Please."

"Do whatever you want," the ebon states nonchalantly, signing off his report and slipping it into the folder, then stands and replaces his suit jacket with a flourish, gasper caught between lips. "I've no authority to curb interest in cold cases, nor do I care to request official permission. Just keep our discussion private, don't share the file with anyone and keep it undisclosed to the SSPD, lest we both get disciplined for pursuing unauthorised cases."

The junior detective blinks at his sudden movement and stands, grabbing for his own jacket with nausea roiling in his guts, unable to observe the elder ebon without pity or sadness. "To the morgue, then?"

"No, it's gone five." Shadow does up his coat and takes a drag of nicotine, letting the smoke sit in his lungs before expelling it sharply out his nostrils. "Von Schlemmer can wait. I need that damned drink."


	5. Addictive Personality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many addictions can you count?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be way out of left field, but... would anyone be interested in a Discord server for this and my other fics? Just somewhere to chill out and bounce about ideas? You'll get to see some of BlazingBeast20's amazing art too, if they want to share it.
> 
> Things to note would be:  
> \- 18+ due to the nature of my content  
> \- NSFW will be the standard format  
> \- I can make a SFW area if its requested  
> \- it'll be quiet, because its new  
> \- maybe art and related shorts/ skits  
> \- character profiles in development there  
> \- ideas and discussion areas
> 
> Let me know in a comment -- someone start a thread and add to it from there, yeah? -- if there's actual interest I'll do the thing.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy~

**CHAPTER FIVE: ADDICTIVE PERSONALITY**

Much like the other crumbling structures comprising Old Downtown,  _ Rouge's _ concrete facade of soulless grey is clearly in need of repair. Sparse window frames peel paint from old wood, front door stained with dark city grime of dubious origin and a step to the entrance split by age and poor upkeep, both useless, rotting ends held fast by railings.

It doesn't look inviting, nor does its location; alleys back onto the small clearing bordered by blocks of flats and the rears of tall, narrow townhouses. Rickety metal fire escapes wind down their facades like skeletons, square windows no larger than an incident sheet dotted to let what little light permeates the concrete jungle's depths into each compartment, basement-level courtyards of brick llittered with disreputable trash.

Hackles raised and quills flexing in discomfort, Sonic loiters at the base of the steps to readjust the file under his arm, nervous emeralds surveying the nearby alleys. He squeaks in surprise when a rat scurries out from the shadows of one only to meld into the dark of another and takes the first two steps in a hurry, if only to get away from the vermin. 

"Do you come here often, or are you trying to freak me out?" When Shadow tisks rather than replies, the azure can feel his nerves physically fraying, and anxious lips continue moving to modulate his discomfort. "The gang hideout, the file,  _ this  _ dive… is just some weird initiation ritual, right? You're not seriously gonna drink here…?" 

He's not been to this part of town before, warned away by his uncle as a local den for prostitutes, drug deals and street gangs. Of course, he'd expected to be here soon but working a case, not following his alcoholic mentor to run-down dives for a cheap fix.

Tired eyes frown down on the azure, a dark hand poised on the tarnished brass knob. Sonic wills his quills to stay flat as pert ears flicker in discomfort beneath Shadow's authoritative tone. "The chameleon who owns this place is an old friend, so be polite _ , don't _ embarrass me and  _ try _ not to make a fool of yourself. Keep that file close at all times, as well. The clientele aren't very trustworthy."

_ Then why even drink here? Surely there's better bars. _

Even if he'd wanted to voice the question, the detective doesn't give him time, turning the knob and heading in without pause, leaving Sonic to scurry after him. The interior is as poorly kept as outside, though the smells of piss and vomit are both more intense yet muted, an overpowering stink of harsh, Human-made chemicals to thank for that strange reprieve.

It doesn't inspire confidence, nor does the cracked arch with doorless hinges between the foyer and the bar, where the ebon pauses to hang his coat and hat. Paint flakes off skirting boards, hooks barely attached to the wall bend under the weight of Shadow's jacket and old, stained floors creak. 

"Don't leave anything in your coat; it'll be filched in minutes come sundown."

Relieving himself of his own overcoat, Sonic follows the ebon cautiously, though the run-down pub is still empty having only just opened its doors. Dark wooden panels match the heavy tables and chairs scattered haphazardly about the large interior cavern, floor sticky beneath the junior's shoes and dust motes clouding bare bulbs, the intense odor of cleaning fluids and sawdust masking vile undertones of bile and blood.

Bar stool scratching on worn wooden floor boards, the detective sits himself at the low bar without a word, cig smoldering in the low light. It catches the aged wood aflame with reflections on worn vanish as he draws on it, then tisks and taps ash into an empty glass. "I know you're there. Your cologne is repulsive, as always."

"You look like shit, Detective." The comment comes as if from nowhere. Sharp jades track the low, measured voice, though it takes Sonic a moment to notice the glint of eyes and flash of teeth in what appears to be wooden bar backing with... clothes? "Did you even sleep?"

He almost drops his file when grain-mottled wood shifts and shimmers into a short, vibrant purple Chaotic, the apparent owner of the deep, low tone. The creature is exotic and approximately the same height as the azure's shoulder, with a curved horn adorning a dark muzzle. 

Dressed in a plain waistcoat over a white shirt, with sleeves rolled to his elbows and mismatched suit pants, he seems so normal it's almost weird compared to his unusual physique. With his posture a relaxed stance of a seasoned barkeep, he retrieves a cloth from his belt and a glass from below the bar, habitually shining it before placing it in front of Shadow as he snorts in amusement. 

"I've been busy," the ebon states nonchalantly, drawing his questionably clean glass closer as the chameleon bends for a bottle of whiskey, a tut of disapproval as he pours a measure that prompts explanation. "One of the Squad's pups turned up dead. Junior Detective Sonic and I have been investigating leads all day. We've barely had time to talk, let alone sleep off the early start."

Sharp reptilian eyes focus on the azure in question, who smiles to disguise his lingering nerves. "Ah, the detective mentioned being assigned a junior some weeks ago." He places the bottle down with a _clink_ and offers his hand, which Sonic takes without hesitation and shakes firmly. "Espio, the owner. It's a pleasure, Junior Detective. Can I get you a glass, or perhaps you'd prefer a beer?"

"Thanks, but no thanks." The cerulean releases his hand and scoots onto the barstool beside his mentor with a smile, placing the file on the oaken bar. "Maybe just a glass of juice? I don't really drink alcohol; too expensive for a rookie salary, and even that's a step up from the glorified errand boy wage I was on for six months."

"Never stopped the detective," Espio responds dryly, paying the ebon's irritated growl no mind as he shines a second glass and places it before the azure, continuing to speak as he retrieves the orange juice and pours. "But I respect that; vices are for the jaded or hard done by, like that miserable bastard. Kids your age should be putting it away for a girl, not drinking it on weekdays."

Mind skipping to the beautiful fuschia he's known since childhood, Sonic chuckles nervously and sips his juice, a little put off by its warmth. "Heh. I don't have a girl, but I give half of it to the family towards rent and food, a bit more if we're short. I really don't know how they kept us clothed without a second income… money seems to slip through our fingers like water these days."

The barkeep hums in agreement, tucking his cloth back into his waistband. "The wars fucked us over, ate all the food and stifled trade. We're not going to see resources drop far enough in value to benefit working classes until the next decade, I reckon. It's the price Humans paid to stay Free of their own kind. If compared to Ownership, that's an irony I find... absurdly entertaining."

Shadow snorts, raising his third glass to his lips. "You've a twisted sense of humour, chameleon. Ignorance burns those not privileged enough to bask in the benefits. I'd gladly see our Humans collared and paraded as pets."

"Kinda harsh," the junior glances to his mentor, who's too engrossed feeding his addiction to bother returning the gaze as he snorts indignantly and knocks back his third double shot, but Sonic doesn't falter. "Besides, can you imagine how they'd treat  _ us _ if they'd put their own to slavery? I'd rather be second-class than end up at the bottom of the heap."

"Looks like Shadow caught a live one." 

The voice is feminine, soft and sultry in tone and laced with humour. Unable to tell if it's at his expense or lust for life, the azure looks to the rhythmic  _ tack _ of heels on worn floorboards and the most dolled-up Chaotic he's ever seen outside of Cottontail Corner. 

Bright white fur adorns large, angled ears characteristic of a bat, fading to tan on muzzle and arms. Her dress a deep red and tailored to accentuate her exceptionally feminine shape, sweetheart neckline flashes the top of tan breasts, clinging to her waist and hips before flaring into an extravagant excess of fabric mid-thigh, white legs stemming from the hem flowing into equally red heels.

All breasts and curves, the junior averts his gaze and sips his juice. She leans on the bar beside the detective and carefully skims long-cuffed, black-gloved fingers through permanently disheveled quills that tense beneath her touch. "But thank God a man can still drown his sorrow in hard liquor. Isn't that right, Grumpy?"

Shadow pours himself a forth double and takes a sip, his hackles flexing with irritation Sonic doesn't understand; the woman is being affectionate if a touch teasing, yet distaste for the attention echoes in his harsh tone. "I've no patience for bullshit today, Rouge. Don't test me."

"My very existence tests you on good days," she states in soft, understanding tones, deft fingers migrating to an ear. Sonic watches with awe as his fiery mentor simmers and dark digits flex on his glass, tired crimsons fluttering closed with a slight tilt of the head and a low  _ murr _ of contentment. "Introduce me to your friend, handsome. Such a dashing boy."

"Don't tease him, Rouge. He's barely legal."

Teal irises slide to the younger hedgehog still fighting a blush across his muzzle. Meeting her gaze with a smile, he hesitates when she offers a hand palm-down but unsure what else to do, shakes it firmly. "Nice to meet you, Rouge. The name's Sonic."

"My pleasure," she smiles, seemingly unaffected by any social faux-pas he may have committed, rolling her eyes slightly when the detective tisks behind her. "Don't mind Grumpy, he'll soften up with time. Though I see he gave you some light reading. That means he likes you."

Gaze following hers to the file, a wave of anxiety washes back over Sonic and he digs in a pocket, pulling out his wallet. "Oh, that's the case I agreed to look at. I should get home, before the light goes." He tips some coins into a palm and places them down without bothering to count them, quickly downing his juice and grabbing the file. "That's for Shads' first too, and thanks for the drink! It's been real nice."

Espio clicks his tongue and counts the change by sliding each coin off the counter into a palm, pocketing them when satisfied it's enough. "You're welcome, Sonic. And don't be a stranger; it's novel to serve friendly men willing to settle their tab."

The ebon slams his glass on the bar, making the azure's heart beat furiously as fearful jades snap to his mentor. Curled lips and sharp fangs intimidating enough, his low snarl and heavy glare send a shudder down the junior's spine. "Are you insinuating something, chameleon? I can always take my business elsewhere."

Espio remains disinterestedly shining a glass, not giving the growling Chaotic more than a brief glance before he raises the cup to inspect. "Who else is stupid enough to tolerate your tab? Besides, it's hardly an insult if it's based in truth, detective."

" _ Espio, _ " the female chastises harshly, gaze narrowed at her business partner across the bar. He looks away with a huff of annoyance as Rouge resumes stroking the irate ebon's quills in a soothing manner. "If we need money, I'll ask for payment, Hon. You know he's aroused by the very clink of coins on the bar. Just ignore him."

"At least I have some self respect," the chameleon shot back, the slightest glint of offense in narrowed, reptilian pupils. "I don't drink myself into stupor like the common riff-raff and pass out at the bar, to be removed come daylight by an echidna with more muscle than sense. It's about time he realised solace isn't at the bottom of a bottle and paid his _ damned dues _ ."

It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room, the atmosphere as he stares the detective down so thick Sonic can hardly breathe. Rouge seems taken aback, lips parted as she regards her business partner with enough shock the azure assumes the outburst is out of character before she even speaks, tone carefully soft. "I think you two need a break from one another, hmm? Let me-"

"Forget it, Rouge."

The ebon chugs what remains of his drink and slams the glass back down on the bar. Digging in pockets for his wallet, he draws out every note and throws whatever money he has at Espio, then empties the shrapnel onto the bar. "You want money? Take your damned money, get the fuck off my fucking back, and don't expect to see me again anyway, you passive-aggressive skin-flint!"

Sonic barely makes a sound and the ebon rounds on him, ears folded to his skull and quills puffed out. He shrinks beneath the fury emanating off Shadow, any comments dying in his throat before they truly form as his own quills flaten in submission. "No one asked you, Junior. So unless you want me to slam your face onto the bar for good measure, keep your asinine suggestions to yourself, understood?"

He doesn't expect Rouge to put herself between them, nor to meet his gaze with confidence and shove the thin detective backwards. "Leave the kid alone, Shadow. He's done nothing but be nice, so don't you dare. If you can't be civil to other customers, then  _ you _ get the fuck out of  _ my _ bar _.  _ Understand?"

Silence follows, time flowing as thick as molasses as the two stare each other down, until the ebon raises a fist. Adrenaline floods the youngster's body as he anticipates a blow, but dissipates to shame he believes his mentor capable of violence against dames as Shadow forcefully points at her unwavering scowl instead. "I'll berate the damn Junior as brutally as I fucking wish, it's my job. Your name might be on the door but you don't own shit, and have  _ no _ leave to demand  _ anything  _ of me, woman."

"Then  _ I'm _ telling you," Espio chimes in with measured calmness, eyes narrowed in annoyance. "You're barred tomorrow. Threaten Rouge again, it's a month. Now get the fuck out of my pub, before I eject you myself."

Shadow sets his jaw and backs off the bat, sending Espio a glare before he storms out with a frustrated snarl, last second thoughts seeing him grab what remains of the whiskey bottle. No attempt to stop him made, the outer door slams a moment later, and Rouge sags with a sigh of relief. "Chaos, who pissed in his oatmeal today?"

"Probably pissed in it himself, just to gripe," the barman comments as he counts up the money Shadow left, his expression back to a disinterested frown. "He'll be back, he always comes back. I'll just add the bottle to his tab."

With the file held tight to his chest suddenly exceedingly heavy, Sonic fails to settle the nausea swimming in his guts. The detective isn't like he'd expected nor is he like his co-workers said, far too complex to put in a box and label as a bad person. The prospect of learning of his past and what motivated him to be a cop excites and worries the azure even more now, seeing how addiction and sensitivity play him like life's marionette.

_ What happened to you, and how can I help repair the cracks, or is that why you've given me the file? _

\--

The detective's apartment is in the heart of Old Lower Westside, a district with a working girl or three on every corner and a dealer in every alley, filled with Chaotic and Human washouts that know to mind their own business or risk turning up dead in the river. Its an area of poverty and overcrowding, of young lives lost to drugs and drink in dead-end jobs, and it was the perfect place to hide an ebony hedgehog with more secrets than contacts.

Coat open with the collar turned up against a blustery chill, Infinite navigates the narrow alleys between the neglected apartment blocks with unusually slow stride, perhaps as reluctant to reach his destination as he is determined to do so. He'd normally not bother with the detective so late, but when his boys got a lead on the pup killer he'd gotten too angry to wait until morning, itching to enact revenge on the traitorous bastard.

_ I'm going to kill that son of a bitch myself. _

When the buyer stiffed out of a month's supply hadn't barged into the hideout demanding his product by dusk, the gangster had grown suspicious. Dispatching another young pup to scout his usual haunts uncovered a known addict dealing to Human kids at the skatepark, high as a kite on his own stash that had restocked overnight. It's not exactly evidence of murder, but if he's started to get his supply from another source, the tweaker obviously needs his loyalties re-established regardless.

Getting hauled in for a murder enquiry should make the red panda squirm, and remind the shit of Infinite's clout in law enforcement. Even if he wasn't responsible for his pup's death, drug addicts are weak willed and delicately balanced individuals; the red panda's lips will be looser than a call girl's goods before being bailed out of the clink, and if he  _ is _ responsible for the kid's death, he'll be in a shallow grave in an abandoned home's basement by sundown tomorrow.

It's a win regardless, but permitting Shadow to arrest his ass is also inconvenient. His boys could have the cunt beaten, bruised and on his office floor within the hour, yet even more important than keeping his now old carpet stain-free is honoring the tenacious respect he's forged with the detective.

Already an official investigation, threatening a potential perp before the police enquiry would greatly hinder the ebon's progress. He wants to drag the fleabag straight in and beat a confession out of him but stays his hand only for this detective. For his flaws and vices, the hedgehog is a good man - more so than he will ever manage - not to mention depriving Shadow of another solved case to rub under the commissioner's nose would be a miscarriage of justice for all Mobiankind.

_ Just ten years prior I wouldn't have cared; the asshole would've been beaten, bloodied corpse dumped for the SSPD to scrape off the asphalt. _

The twenty years since they met in the alley have flown by in a myriad of heated and unexpected experiences, a single, common theme amongst them all. Despite being leader of the Jackal Squad, his job as detective and the ever-deepening pit of despair the hapless hedgehog has been sliding into for nineteen years, none of it stopped him frequently seeking Infinite's company.

He'd sit in the jackal's office for hours complaining about his employers, the broad at the bar who teased him, and the rising price of the food he didn't even want rotting in his cupboards, all over a decanter of watered whiskey and a pack of camels. Infinite had initially been pissed, assuming the hedgehog was there simply for the free booze and cigs, but after months of cheap plonk and he still came around, the gangster finally let his guard drop.

What he'd found in the disgruntled detective was a kindred spirit of emotional pain. He wouldn't talk of his Humans, deflecting questions until a particularly dumb squad member jokingly asked what human tail felt like; they'd had to manhandle Shadow off the kid, leaving him beat and bloodied to throw the ebon under a cold shower, extinguishing an explosive anger Infinite hadn't been privy to since they'd first met...

* * *

They'd waited three days, just enough time for the boys to watch the hedgehog's habits and determine he acted much more like a displaced Tamed than one Nack's guys. He'd spent much of his time around the burnt-out husk of an upper-middle class Human residence of flourishing Lower Westside, adding credence to rumours there may be Chaotic at the heart of the disaster.

His only remaining concern was the potentially political nature of killing the family in question. Professor Gerald Robotnik was a respected if slightly eccentric old Human with an unusual affection of Chaotics. A campaigner for Mobian Rights - the name chosen by Free Chaotics in an attempt to highlight the importance of a sense of self - he and his ailing granddaughter lived quiet, unassuming lives in the sprawling home adapted for her wheelchair.

The fire devastated the house and burned a gaping hole in the roof, the bodies of both inhabitants burned and all the Professor's papers for a press conference the next day little more than ash. The home had been ransacked, every important document destroyed, but the last odd detail of the investigation had captured the imaginations and fears of the Lower Westside District.

A concealed room in the girl's quarters furnished for a toddler-sized being, and four ownership bands buried in the debris of documents. Speeches lamented as the lost insights of a genius and a rogue Chaotic blamed for their deaths, the investigation in the Lower Westside stalled almost as soon as it began, leaving the squad to trail him without concern for the plods interfering.

But with the anger of a Chaotic ally's death comes an unwelcome, sobering truth; even if he started the blaze, Infinite can't kill him, at least not yet, and he's itching to make contact with the ex-resident. The district remains unclaimed and would make a perfect expansion of the Squad's operations from Old Westside. 

_ The hedgehog's local knowledge will be an invaluable asset, given willingly or otherwise. _

He approaches the Chaotic digging through human trash with veiled caution, not planning to start a confrontation unless required, a willing participation always preferable to burning resources on a disillusioned captive. His boys positioned at strategic points around the cemented zone for waste removal, the jackal feels confident; even if he has fighting experience he's outnumbered seven to one, bad odds for a starving, walking toothpick.

The hedgehog is scrawny and thin, not mistreated or malnutritioned but of lean build and little muscle. Bones visibly slide beneath loose skin indicative of sudden loss of body mass, his dark pelt so dirty and matted he must have been on the streets for a week or so now. Likely a pet in such a flourishing area of Station Square, he's not transitioned to the street well, a boon as Infinite can offer simple things as hooks: a bed, food, warmth.

"Whatever you want, I'm not interested." 

Infinite stiffens and refocuses, realising the hedgehog is still face-first in the nearest bin, an unusually deep voice for such a slender Chaotic echoing of the metallic sides. Except for gloves and shoes the ebon is entirely naked, a common sight amongst the recently Freed or Escaped. Thick red streaks slice through the dorsal edge of every headquill while thinner lines run down his appendages, the vibrant crimson in stark contrast to his pitch pelt.

"I'm not a salesman, hedgehog." A humourless snort rebounds off the metal can, the ebon's torso still draped inside the bin, and the jackal feels his hackles go stiff in irritation. Large ears fold back as pale lips curl with a snarl. "Do owners not teach manners any more? Or is talking out your ass your little party trope,  _ pet?" _

A shift in the air is felt immediately, even before his face rises from the bin, eyes as sharp and striking as his quills locked onto hard dichromats. They're at opposite ends of the eight foot square concrete slab with half a dozen standing bins along one edge, but Infinite can smell the fury emanating off the dark hedgehog in early morning light muted by city smog. "I'm nobody's  _ pet _ , jackal."

"Sore subject?" Sweeping his coat off his hips, the jackal tuck his own bare hands into pants pockets with a casual flare as he slowly walks the perimeter, analytical gaze on the now extremely tense Chaotic. His previous plan of peaceful negotiation flits through his mind, and the gangster can't help but chuckle as a smirk forms on pale lips. "Strange. You don't look starved, no deformities or scars suggesting abuse. Did you simply get bored of the pampered life and start a bonfire? How ungrateful."

To his surprise, the ebon snarls. "I didn't set the fire-"

Another laugh, this one heartily amused. "I don't really care if you slit their throats and burnt the house down to cover your tracks. I care about how much trouble  _ you're _ going to cause  _ me _ ." 

Infinite pauses less than three feet away, holding the stranger's glare with confidence, smirking with certainty the ebon's bark is far worse than his bite despite the heavy scowl and foolish bravery. "This is my district. I have eyes in every bar, ears on every street and my snout buried deep in everyone's business, pincushion. You'll do well to remember that."

With a long stride they're nose to nose, barely a breath between them, and the euphoria of victory floods below the jackal's pelt when those dark felt ears finally fold in uncertainty, even if the hedgehog continues to hold his gaze. "That means I decide who the problems are, and I  _ deal _ with my problems before they fester into wounds I cannot patch; insolence, disrespect,  _ treachery _ ."

Smile widening slightly, he speaks with a faux-sincerity made farcical by a flash of teeth. "I ask for cooperation only, and in return offer board and nourishment, but I will not tolerate insubordination. As a man of honour, I'll give you a pass on earlier and offer a chance to redeem yourself, but I demand the  _ truth _ ; why'd you set the fire? Mistreatment? Melancholy?"

The hedgehog growls low, own fangs bared as dark quills bristle with agitation. For a kept Chaotic he's ballsy, not shrinking away as others did but meeting threats with stubborn determination. The gangster appreciates his bravery, no matter how foolish. "Jesus, are you dense?  _ I didn't start it _ . Nor will I be coerced or recruited _ , so get the fuck out of my face, Jackal." _

As he turns his back, a cruel glint flickers across Infinite's features. "Ah, I see. Ashamed to admit a young woman's screams got your rocks off?"

Muscles stiffen fast and the ebon's breath catches, but it isn't until he swings around with an anguished snarl it's obvious he's not resigned but outraged, an emotion hit home quite literally by his left fist colliding with Infinite's jaw. The strike is enough to throw him off balance, weak but unexpected from the scrawny Chaotic; he steps back with the momentum, hand coming up to wipe a dribble of blood from his lip, and the jackal growls dangerously.

Surprisingly the ebon is still in motion, gaze distant and unfocused, an internal fire fueling every move beneath a muzzle twisted with hatred. For a second it stills him in his tracks, the same mindless aggression something he'd seen hundreds of times in the ring. Permitted to work his muscles like a marionette then, its emergence in this hedgehog causes uncomfortable memories to surface; a stadium of blood and claws, the adrenaline of fear and possible death, and the elation victory brought simply because it meant survival. 

Focus slipping beneath these recollections, the jackal is brought back to the present by an abrupt  _ smack  _ as their foreheads collide. The hedgehog reels from his own strike, obviously much more affected than the merely dazed jackal as a gloved hand comes to his head. Picking up a shuffle, infinite's ear turns to the members around him and motions for them not to interfere, that moment determined to finish this quickly.

He lashes out with speed and his ebon opponent hisses with pain, stumbling back with the momentum of taking a strong right hook to the jaw. He's still trying to regain his balance when Infinite closes the gap and knots both hands in the hedgehog's grimey quills, jerking his head down to meet a forceful thrust of the knee. 

The sickening  _ crack _ of colliding bones slices the air, then he tosses the hedgehog away like the garbage he'd been digging through. He watches the ebon fall into the metal cans before landing without grace on the asphalt with a grunt, dispassionately digging for a cigarette. He sparks a match and puffs a lungful, casually walking over to and crouching beside the whining, disoriented hedgehog, a jerk of quills all revealing an admirably hard gaze for the gasp of pain such treatment elicited. 

"Don't make me beat you unconscious," he states in a bland tone, billowing smoke in the hedgehog's face with every word. "I'll let your mistake slide this time, but I demand respect from all the inhabitants of this Quarter, especially assholes like you. Catch your breath, take your defeat like a Chaotic and do as you're told, I might even permit a hot meal and bath tonight."

He drops the hedgehog's quills without warning, letting the exhausted ebon's face fall heavily to the ground as he straightens and steps over the ebon's prone form. With another puff of the gasper he addresses the jackal waiting nearby. "Get him up, back to the hideout and soothe his bruised pride with a stiff drink. But treat him  _ respectfully,  _ understand?"

Glancing to see the hedgehog already angled onto an elbow, Infinite lips curl into a devious smile. "My gut tells me this one's more valuable compliant."

* * *

Once the hedgehog and his new protogé had gotten lost for the day, emotions fried and unable to settle the gang leader had locked himself away for what remained of the afternoon, finishing his decanter and a glass of the next before his mind became pleasantly muted. Tension dissipated and fortitude numbed by liquor, the weight of his pup's death crushing him into his seat, an inch from psyche fracture when his boys returned with news.

_ Then I scurried off to tell him like his damned bitch. _

_ What have you done to me, Shadow? _

Mismatched eyes refocus, scouring the streets for any sign of life besides himself before walking briskly for the detective's apartment block, muzzle downcast and flat cap pulled low to disguise mismatched irises, distinctive locks tucked into his collar. While still in Lower Westside, the neighbourhood had nosedived since the affluent Human Quarter fell into disrepair, and Infinite has no desire to risk being seen entering the sour hedgehog's building or get drawn into a rival scrap.

His legs continue to ledden with each stair, every floor another pause to consider turning back. The intel could wait. While the delay would burn in his gut and prevent sleep he could have sent a runner in the morning, every step building a sense of annoyance. By the time he hits the top floor he's seething, every muscle tightened with an intense anger summarised by a single thought.

_ Chaos knows why, but I need this. _

_ So you'd better be fucking home, Shadow. _


	6. Scandalous Liaisons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Good Stuff."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is... 69% smut and the rest a ton of emotions, feelings and uncomfortable realisations. Buckle up for the rollercoaster.
> 
> It was also inspired by a one-shot written by co-creator BlazingBeast20, and was not origionally intended to become canon, but I guess the bunnies like the ghey too much.
> 
> Enjoy "the good stuff", then drop on over to BlazingBeast20 for a little more Noir food~

**CHAPTER SIX: SCANDALOUS LIAISONS**

No one ever visits his apartment, so when someone raps on the door Shadow immediately stills, unsteady fingers pinching the freshly laundered shirt with enough force to crease. The few acquaintances he holds besides Sonic know where he lives, but with no cause to drop by and eight flights of stairs to climb, his home has remained a haven of tranquility from the outside world… until now.

Unwilling to encourage that to change, the ebon ignores the knocks and continues trying to fold his shirt again. Lamenting the hours he lost at the bar, it takes him a moment to notice his visitor has tried the handle and he tenses without bothering to turn, able to tell who's let themselves in uninvited from the light, confident stride.

The gangster's scent hits him first, the tang of anger and irritation intermixed with a familiar heated spice, a scent he hates to enjoy whenever Infinite is in close proximity. Almost craving the aroma, it's always a struggle to keep his weakness for it in check but tonight is worse; mildly inebriated, his body is less responsive to inhibitions and unstable, allowing the shake of his hands to worsen.

Infinite slams the door and mangles the broken lock into place with difficulty. "Have you gone deaf, hedgehog?

"Of course not," the ebon rebukes with an equally flat, matter-of-fact tone as unsteady hands fumble a fold. The shirt falls back to the messy pile, and there's a brief pause as he regards the pile tiredly, then retrieves it to try again, glad for something to keep his hands busy. "I figured you might give up and get lost. I'm in no mood to entertain 'guests' after such a long day."

The ruffling fabric disrupts the silence, the jackal getting comfortable, but when he fails another fold of laundry Shadow loses what remains of his composure, snatching the shirt back up with a growl. He needs a drink -- not a few fingers of the disinterested chameleon's bottom shelf shite, but a _real_ fix -- and a growing warmth under his pelt alluding to what _else_ the gang leader has him craving pisses him off. "What the hell do you want?"

He hears Infinite discard his coat and anger quickly climbs to a roiling boil, every word out of the jackal's mouth kindling to a blaze tempered only by an equally distracting problem in his pants. Still he tries to suppress his urges until the jackal takes a step closer, his voice an unmistakable pitch probing for a fight. "You still haven't done anything with the place. What a bore."

_It always starts like this, doesn't it?_

His quills bristle at the slight; the walls are as bare as his life, a constant reminder to get up every morning rather than let himself die, nothing where his family should be. It takes most of his tattered restraint to slowly turn his head, his glare deceptively nonchalant and shirt all but forgotten in hands riddled with withdrawal shakes. "Still looks better than that shit-hole you call a hideout."

"That 'shit-hole' has more personality than you and your apartment combined," the jackal retorts with a snarl, an irrational anger that has Shadow's own temper peak; his hands refuse to cooperate anymore, symptoms only exacerbated by the rage building beneath his pelt. He glares at his shirt, cursing it internally as his hackles raise in irritation. 

"What the fuck are you here for?"

"Your job, _detective_. I'm here doing your fucking job " His agitation is palpable, raising in sync with the volume and intensity of his retort. "I thought you'd like to know that my boys possibly found the pup killer's trail, and I have no intention of letting him live if I get to him first."

Dark quills bristling out, the hedgehog slams his shirt onto the neat pile beneath with an aggressive flourish and whips around with a growl. Intense crimsons meet a hard, mismatched gaze so familiar. Even after decades of 'business' he refuses to acknowledge the warm flutter that skitters through his gut. "You'll do no such thing. I can't question a damn corpse! I need-"

"That's not my problem, is it?" The gangster takes a step closer, a physical challenge as much as a verbal one. He holds the ebon's gaze without flinching, so close and heated, heavy breaths warm the detective's muzzle and ghost across his cheek. It's a brash move, Shadow far more capable of holding his own in recent years, an arrogant confidence that tips the ebon's heightened emotions over the edge.

"It is your fucking problem. That pup was one of yours, another young life snuffed out doing _your_ work, and I have to be the one to figure out the mess!" The jackal's lip curls with building rage, fingers flexing into fists and fur bristling in the face of such allegations, but Shadow doesn't care. "Money, drugs, a runner… How long until you replace all of-"

Pain explodes in his jaw and the detective stumbles back with a grunt, barely managing to keep his legs as fingers probe the split in his lip. It stings like hell, the blood on ebony fingertips stunning him but a moment, then his emotions reach a fevered pitch. 

_We both always rise to the bait._

Irritation boiling into rage, Shadow snarls and throws himself at his assailant, slamming his full weight into Infinite and winding him against the wall, a satisfying _whoosh_ of air leaving his lungs. Never so easy to disable Infinite swings without falter; a punch connects below the ribs and with a pained gasp, he stoops forward, the jackal taking the chance to drop an elbow between his shoulder blades and knock him to the ground.

Assault paused amidst gasped breaths, the detective is able to stagger back to his feet with unsteady progress, own hands drawn into fists now. Neither submitting to their urges willingly, there's always an argument or fight. An excuse to temper what courses through their groins, for release he hopes Infinite is also slave to.

_What's another stone to a mountain of sin, when what we have makes me feel alive?_

Fangs bared with a rasping growl Infinite swings again. Slowed by breathlessness he dodges with ease, ducking below before squarely connecting a fist to his jaw. The canid slumping against the wall, Shadow assumes he's won, until a clawed hand runs along an assaulted jaw and pale lips draw into a smirk. "Is that all you've got? Your little rookie probably hits harder."

The taunt hits raw emotion and the detective pins him a moment after. Too low of a blow to let slide and desiring to issue equal disrespect, ebon and crimson fingers fist the jackal's prided locks and gives them a sharp jerk, the snarl he receives for his trouble gratifying as he slugs a cheek hard enough to set Infinite's ears ringing. 

"Fuck you, jackal." Shadow lets him go and watches the canid straighten with difficulty, then spit bloody saliva before their gazes lock again. A sliver of ice shoots down the detective's spine beneath that murderous stare, his opponent's eyes aflame with an indomitable will that bores into Shadow's very being. The jackal's confident, intimidating intensity resets the inebriated heat in his groin so potently, the detective phases out.

Until Infinite speaks: " _Round two_ , asshole." 

Physically tackled before he can react, the hedgehog grunts as his back is slammed into the table behind with such force it topples, wrestling Mobians falling heavily to the floor beside now crumpled clothing. Stressed, anxious about having to share his secrets with a Junior detective, frustrated his case has no new leads in years and now nothing to show for a day of legwork around the city, his composure snaps entirely.

Letting rage take over, he fights the jackal as ferociously as the canid attacks; fists collide with flesh, claws snag and graze pelt, teeth snap and fangs bare into snarls and growls. For nearly a minute dull _thuds_ of punches, hisses of pain and the scrabbling of attempts to take control of the fight prevail, until Infinite manages to straddle ebon hips and pin the detective down. 

Finally stilled by his weight Shadow sucks in breath, tired eyes locked to triumphant. His back hurts from smacking into the table, his face and torso aflame with pain sure to blossom into deep bruises, but the jackal's proximity, intense stare and groin pressed to his still semi-hard dick flares his cheeks pink. He daren't shift in case it grinds them together, and instead speaks. "Get off me."

_How do you do this to me?_

_Are you aware it's only you that does?_

Mismatched irises refocus and exhaustive fatigue quickly becomes curiosity, the hedgehog tensing and turning his head with embarrassment as Infinite leans in close and sniffs his scent. A huff of amusement ruffles neck fur, his former assailant pulling back with a smirk and a chuckle when the hedgehog's muzzle darkens beneath his stare. 

"Horny drunkard." 

When the jackal rocks his hips against the hardening lump in Shadow's pants and he can't swallow the groan it causes, eyes fluttering closed and shudders jerking his groin into the friction. Chaos, it feels good for the song and dance to be over, to be pressed to the ground beneath the gangster's weight, at his mercy for release Infinite surely won't pass up after almost two months since their last 'transaction'.

"Get off me, bastard. My back's hurting." 

He angles to his elbows, biting back a moan as the shift rubs their groins, but his weak attempt at saving face is quickly thwarted by a palm. Shadow's heartbeat skips at the sheer lust echoing in his smirk and allows Infinite to push him back to the floor with little resistance, muscles aquiver with anticipation as he leans close once more.

"Your back is the least of your concerns," the gangster whispers as claws graze along his shirt, then suddenly curl between buttons and rip through threads, splitting it open almost to the waist. 

Irritated, Shadow is about to berate the reckless jackal when their groins are ground abruptly, the hardness growing in Infinite's pants and short duration of contact drawing a needy whine from the ebon's throat. Spurred on by his reaction, deft fingers start to wander, burying in the tuft of fur on his chest and expertly working his zipper, rustles of fabric and tug of fur enrapturing.

Sensations all forgotten when said fingers skim across heated, sensitive flesh. Infinite leans in to whisper softly as those fingers trail all over his throbbing cock, his sly confidence as arousing as it is infuriating. "What's the matter, detective? You seem riled up."

_You're the problem, bastard…_

"Stop fucking teasing," he demands weakly, barely able to angle onto his elbows now. Body shamelessly aquiver, an unfiltered moan laden with his own lust reverberates in his throat when the jackal leans in for another sniff, a breathy whine escaping when the gangster notorious for ripping out throats ghosts sharp fangs over his sensitive flesh. It's a dangerous trust that's always accompanied by euphoria, adrenaline and sexual tension meshing into glorious and utter heat.

Then the sudden loss of contact leaves him cold. Tired crimsons crack open to glare at the grinning jackal with irritation, sure he's been played for daring to fight back. With an opportunity to regain some dignity he struggles back to his feet while clinging to his pants, about to yank them up when he's shoved so hard into a wall it forces a grunt of surprise from his throat. Hands braced beside his head, glaring over a shoulder, he's shamefully buzzed by the gangster's gall and flushes darkly.

"What the hell, jackal?"

"Did you think I was finished with you?" The gang boss' torso presses to his back, still-trapped rod rubbing to his exposed entrance with a heavy groan. Anticipation and friction leave the hedgehog breathy until his favourite vice speaks, husky tone sending shivers of need through his body as clothes rustle out of sight. "Not even _close_."

Intentions confirmed by lining the tapered head up to the quivering ring, Infinite leans over the hedgehog and pins him like prey with his own torso, fingers roaming his thin frame. Claws rake through fur and lightly graze skin still stinging from their scuffle with surprising gentleness, leaving chills in their wake. Blissful yet taunting and the overstimulation and an inhibitive buzz of alcohol driving him near madness, he pushes back into the jackal's manhood with desperate need for more.

His voice is unsteady, laced with need as he presents his ass like a skirt to be bred, but Shadow doesn't care. Heat throbs in his anus and claws flex on the wall again, hard length fully exposed and aching, back arched to receive the only dick to ever satisfy his needs. "W-what the hell are you waiting for?..."

_It's been so long._

_I need this. I need you._

"Impatient, aren't we?" Infinite smiles mischievously as he presses against the hedgehog's back, hands gripping his waist and muzzle resting against the sensitive flesh of his neck. Hot breaths send shivers down his spine as pressure on his entrance drags another moan from tan lips, and Shadow tries to relax for what is to come as the jackal positions himself. "Fine then."

Not prepared for the teeth that sink into the scruff of his neck, the detective screams with pain, ears folding back and claws scratching into the wallpaper. He grunts, then emits a strangled gasp as Infinite plunges past his tense anal ring just moments later, every nerve catching fire, every brain cell attuned to every source of discomfort.

Trapped by his lover's body, his teeth firmly clamped on loose scruff, pleasure overtakes the pain of being taken so roughly with every thrust. Jolts of bliss flow up his torso and down shaking legs, and with each affirming gasp or whimper Infinite thrusts more deliberately. His cock fills the ebon's anal cavity to capacity, forcing his walls apart to take every inch of thick canid manhood as an appreciative growl rumbles through the hedgehog's scruff whenever he shivers and shifts.

With what little movement he's permitted, the detective squirms just as the canid thrusts again and his prostate finally gets the rough jab he craves. Residual intoxication enough to keep his reservations at bay he cries out loud, stars exploding behind closed ebon lids as he pushes back for deeper, more fulfilling sensations. 

He's surprised by a whine of excitement in his neck as the jaws on his scruff tighten further, so intense he's sure he'll bleed. Except there's little time to consider any of it as Infinite picks up his pace, reducing the hedgehog to a panting, quivering mess more animalistic than Chaotic. 

Moans and cries of bliss flow between clenched teeth as his prostate is repeatedly nailed, claws shredding yellow, nicotine-stained wallpaper and hips bucking to meet the jackal's constant and rhythmic thrusts. He takes the cock as hard and deep as possible, so desperate to feel more he rocks back when the gangster seats himself flush to rosey flesh in preparation to blow his load, grinding into him to bury Infinite's solid rod against his prostate.

Release comes suddenly, the build-up of euphoria in his groin a momentary spasm of ecstasy through balls heavy with months of seed. As Infinite clings to his flesh and grinds into his ass and ebon balls constrict, he gasps in a lungful that catches in his throat as violently blissful contractions squeeze along his aching rod. Then cum pumps on to the wall with a cry of ecstasy, inhibitions regarding the neighbours lost to the release of months of tension and uncontrolled shudders.

Another whine that barely registers amidst his climactic pleasure and the jackal releases his scruff, the chill air on heated, soaked fur making him whimper and shiver. His dick still squirting when Infinite releases a loud, guttural moan of ecstasy and buries his snout in damp fur, he remembers to relax just in time for the knot that swells in his entrance, cementing the two together in bliss.

_Give me everything. Please._

The uncomfortable ache and stretch are familiar and doesn't bother Shadow beyond adding sparks of pleasure that infect his afterglow. Cock still twitching, he murrs between heavy breaths, focused on sensations he'll never admit to missing for the last two months; the warm cum filling his ass, the stretch of his jackal's knot, and the heavy sated ache in his legs.

In all their previous forays, the jackal hasn't scruffed him before, Shadow not tolerating being owned like a bitch in heat. Except to his own shame, he can't deny he liked it, and as Infinite shifts back to abused skin with a murr of his own to nose damp pelt with gentle affection that alludes to another, he wants it. 

It made him feel possessed, needed, not another notch on the gangster's belt and without thinking he whines and tilts his jaw away, tantalisingly exposing flesh for the firm bite, only to shiver when the jackal instead grooms sore skin with a firm tongue. Its unexpected affection that draws out a shuddered moan, and contented by his enjoyment Infinite continues his attentions, both of them heavy breath, gentle murred rumbles and shivers.

_I'd be dead a dozen times over without you..._

As the jackal straightens Shadow feels cold, though a groan laced with bliss as the jackal pulls out stirs subtle warmth in the ebon's groin, despite recent satiation. He can smell their mixed arousal and ejaculate, his own splattered on the wall as hot excess drips from flexing ass muscles, but the rustle of clothing and _zip_ of pants brings forward an emptiness he'd forgotten existed. 

With business concluded, it's time to part ways again, a moment Shadow always hates as it leaves a coldness in his chest drink never fills. With a grunt of effort he pulls himself further up the wall and glances over a shoulder, studying the fatigued jackal lighting a smoke. Seemingly in no hurry to leave, the obsidian scowls and takes a chance he'd never before envisaged. "You dare fucking leave, I'll run you over before you get three blocks."

Infinite doesn't rise to the bait, expression bored as he takes a deep drag of the white stick before pinching it between two fingers, smirking as smoke expels from his nostrils and his tone becomes teasing. "Got some extra stamina and hoping for another round? Well, sorry to disappoint, but I've got a drug dealing bastard to hit."

"You put him in a body bag, I've got nothing." 

He hates the pleading weakness in his tone, but it's the truth; the dealer is his only lead. It masks _other_ reasons he might otherwise have to acknowledge as well, less wholesome and more scandalous reasons he'd prefer to continue to deny, a compromise he takes with a sigh. "I lifted half a bottle of liquor from the chameleon _._ Stay and discuss some options, all night if needed…"

After a few seconds of consideration and another puff of his smoke, the smirk that touches Infinite's muzzle has his heart skip a beat. A confident quirk of lips preluding the more enjoyable activities they've shared for so long. "Are you asking me to stay the night, detective?"

It's the most direct question Infinite has ever asked; his eartips burning brightly in embarrassment, Shadow uses the wall as support to straighten and turn, the sharp ache in his anus a reminder of distracting pleasure they can resume if he stays. "Don't be ridiculous; you can do whatever you damn well please afterwards, but if you're _seen_ leaving we're both in the shit."

Infinite tisks, usually sharp irises glazed by euphoric fog. He leans in and plants a forearm on the wall beside his head to support his weight, muzzle close enough to bite the hedgehog's nose if he choses. "Whatever I want?"

_Same old dance, yet this waltz of words feels new._

_Have I been blind to something deeper this whole time?_

He stinks of pheromones and combined with the scent of semen clinging to both their furs, Shadow can hardly focus. Intoxicated -- _enraptured --_ by his proximity, the ebon struggles to remember to breathe as his muzzle turns a dull pink, traitorously expressing his fluster. "So long as you're through trashing the place, we'll see. Now get out of my face and let me get those drinks, damnit."

"I'll hold you to that, Shadow." 

His tone sends a chill of pleasure down the hedgehog's spine, his name always intimately used, it represents the respect and care they've developed in private, the trust they place in each other. Their relationship has become a scandalous addiction that neither is willing to shake, words heavy with desire and need that infect his voice with husky tones and sets the ebon's world ablaze. 

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't, Fin."

The jackal's lips curl into a toothy grin, and the ache in Shadow's ass throbs in time with his pulse when Infinite pulls closer and whispers ghost across an ear. "And I would hate to disappoint, so it's decided. But first that drink, yes? I hope whatever bottom-shelf piss you stole from the scrooge has more character than your décor."

He pulls away and turns to the kitchen as Shadow frees himself from the pool of material around his ankles and inhibitions already stripped, steps out of his pants and leaves them where they fall. Infinite doesn't bat an eye, pouring them both a glass of amber liquor and raising it to toast seemingly nothing. That same smirk around the smoldering gasper dares him to beg for a second round, perhaps even a third as they clink glasses and Shadow downs another, countless shot.

_You make me want more than closure, Fin. You make me want to live. Isn't that what everyone deserves?_

_Why does that make me feel so… guilty?_

\--

_This pleasure feels so… wrong._

_But I can't get enough of it, or of you._

The light having waned hours before, a dull new sunrise highlights their bodies with muted yellows and reds. The night has passed far too quickly, commitments drowned by liquor and time lost in each other, hips rolling in an ageless rhythm so often since dusk, he's lost count how often they've parted and rejoined. The detective's tiny apartment reeks of arousal and cum-stained sheets, and hormone-soaked sweat meshes softer pelt to coarse where groins intersect.

Infinite is exhausted, but he can't stop; it's been months since their last union and opportunities to indulge in his favourite pass-time are scarce. He'd have been foolish to refuse an open invitation, an unusually brash request for Shadow that riled his previously sated labido back into existence. Shadow wanted him to stay, to indulge in their sordid affair a while longer, and the gangster had been powerless to resist temptation.

Their night had been varied, beginning energetically and with a burning fire for release but now simmered, the simple pleasures of the build to climax and physical closeness all wither needs. His cock aches from use, the detective's ass slick as a cunt with the jackal's multiple loads of ejaculate, and their shared dance of wet thrusts and whimpers peppering the air is painlessly smooth.

He beds Shadow more intimately than a piece of tail, no longer bent over the furniture or pressed to the wall but rested on the sheets, legs spread like a bitch in heat and eyes overflowing with lust. Except a whore couldn't fill his needs, unable to replace some part of the hedgehog Infinite can't pinpoint beyond working girls and pansies leave him unsatisfied, while Shadow does not.

_I can't stay away, always hopelessly drawn back by needs and emotions I can't identify, nor discard..._

_Is it loyalty, or something more?_

Entwining ashen fingers with ebon he presses the mass of mixed digits to the bed, towering over his prized possession as more clawed fingers clutch at his frail hip. Hot breaths further warm the sexually-charged shoebox, and one more thrust has Shadow's anus contracting lethargically; the ebon shudders with a weak arch of his back, a bead of cum thickly balling out of an exhausted dick with the lightest whine before he shivers and drops shakily back to the bed.

His eyes roll as the orgasm ends as fast as it began, the breathless detective mere puddle in the sheets, muzzle shining with sex and need like a beacon. With a twitch, his cock falls back to his abdomen, further soiling dark fur already matted by previous orgasms. But still Infinite rocks into his lover, spurred on by the ebon's breathy gasps and a near-burning pleasure in his dick.

Heavy ebon lids crack over deep ruby irises, meeting the jackal's own dichromats as his lips press together, a light moistening by an elusive tongue that leaves the elder wanting to taste him so badly he leans in on instinct. As weight compresses his oversensitive rod Shadow gasps and tilts his head back, just enough to bring the gangster back to his senses and redirect to nuzzling a dark jaw.

Shadow pinned to sheets, throbbing manhood clenched by a starving anus, reality hits Infinite like a slug to the guts; everything about the obsidian -- the reliance on multiple vices, an inability to take care of himself and his constant defiance -- would've gotten any Squad member beat back into place, or any lay quickly dominated.

It never worked with the detective, but it doesn't bother Infinite either, and this in itself is abnormal.

Shadow snores gently as his ass relaxes, contented sleep at odds with Infinite's racing thoughts. He pulls back to an elbow to gaze at the most dysfunctional Chaotic he's ever met, let alone bred over his desk, with confusion. As he's watched the detective slowly worsen, a steady income leading to decline into alcoholism as consistent as his weekly paycheck, he'd not discarded him like the burnout he is but tolerated it, and Infinite doesn't know why.

He lacks the experience to understand, not to mention the words to explain, so instead draws the detective into his lap. Shadow takes a shaky breath and rouses slightly as Infinite finishes what he started with deliberate, deep thrusts, nailing the detective's abused prostate with his muzzle buried in ebony fur. 

Pheromonal musk flooding his senses quickly brings him close to climax, Shadow following with a whimper when his anal canal gets knotted to capacity. Claws leave light tracks in the jackal's back as an exhausted cock dirties them both one last time, desire for those marks flooding his blood with the euphoria of an addict getting his fix.

Shivering and breathless, Shadow lightly traces the deep scars on his back, tiredly returning affectionate nuzzles and mirroring contented murrs until he drifts off again. The ebon becomes deadweight against his lover's chest, body twitching with aftershocks and heavy sighs of rest, but rather than return him to the sheets Infinite clutches his detective close, dark fingers lost in equally dark quills and buried in coarse for a long time after he passes out.

In contrast Infinite has never felt more awake.


	7. Mischief Mismanaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories, assumptions and sandwiches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeyyyy!
> 
> As usual, a big thank you to ky idea man and beta, BlazingBeast. Don't forget to check out his oneshot "In Too Deep" for some smut and alternate views on the last chapter.
> 
> Also, a big thank you to SovereignofShipping for bouncing ideas and enthusiastic encouragement, lol. Hope you enjoy~
> 
> Finally, we have a Discord now! Its still a WIP but i you join, you'll get access to:  
> \- character profiles and trivia  
> \- fic associated artworks  
> \- Sims 4 created sets for some homes  
> \- a community of currently 3 funny fuckers  
> \- dicussion, suggestion and fic soundtrack topics.
> 
> Here's the linkaroo:  
> https://discord.gg/E2Kjhnu
> 
> Hope to see you there, but more importantly enjoy Chapter 7~

**CHAPTER SEVEN: MISMANAGED MISCHIEF**

Morning upon them already, time passes too fast. Even once burnt out and exhausted Shadow wakes frequently between surreal nightmares and anxious dreams. It's an uncommon side-effect of drinking; too little to drop him unconscious but too much for an untroubled psyche, his world becomes a noticeably disturbed plain of existence the ebon still can't shake, even if aware of it's fallacy.

He always wakes alone, fur matted to his skin by a cold sweat, heart beating furiously and muscles coiled with adrenaline. Exhausted delirium twists the shadows, bringing forth ghosts of recent dreams; Maria's smoldering form emerges from the dark, face blackened and charred on one side with an eye missing. The other is glassy, framed by blonde hair melted to roasted flesh, her blistered hand raised toward him with pure hatred etched in her remaining features.

_"You promised I wouldn't die there, Shadow."_

Despite knowing it isn't real, he scrambles away from his old friend with a choked whimper, unable to discern the corporeal from ethereal in his distress. An urge to vomit rises in his chest, the guilt causing hard liquor to burn up his gullet as she draws near without taking a step. "I-I'm sorry. Please. I couldn't come back! I didn't-. I s-should-."

Expecting to bump into the wall behind, Shadow tenses when he presses to something warm and fluffy instead. An arm around his waist tightens, reflexively drawing his body closer, but it's not until Infinite's gentle snores huff into his neck the ebon recalls asking the jackal to stay. Monochromatic claws flex in soiled fur, littering the sheets with flakes of dry cum as the canid shifts closer with a murr of contentment that flushes the hedgehog's muzzle.

His lover's gentle rumbles echoing through his body, the detective slowly begins to unwind. His claws continue to flex and absently groom dark fur, light huffs of air on his neck and dreaming of unknown pleasantries, Infinite wraps his tail unconsciously over the hedgehog. Daring to look back to his morbid vision, Shadow is relieved to find her spirit gone, the tightness in his chest becoming sadness in memory of her sudden and tragic passing.

In need of comfort, Shadow grasps at the gangster's tail without much thought, drawing the fluffy appendage to his chest and burying his muzzle in white fur tips. Letting the musky scent settle any remaining inner turmoil, the detective slowly relaxes until finally falling into uneasy slumber, his peace plagued by memories.

* * *

_Shadow doesn't like Gray at all._

_Much older than both lackeys left and the jackal who beat him with an unnecessarily long mane of hair, his own fur is grey and thinning, flesh riddled with scars so severe his fur won't grow back. Physically mutilated by the removal of his tail and ear tips, he'd be imposing if not for such submission to a much younger individual, introducing himself by hoisting the ebon's pained frame from the concrete._

_He'd threaten further injury, should he not comply, but Shadow isn't stupid enough to fight the elder regardless, not after being hoisted from the floor single-handed._

_As soon as Gray lets go the youngsters hands start manhandling him down an alley, and Shadow doesn't take the indignity well; his body aches from being tossed into a metal trash can, making it hard to match the brisk pace set. Coupled with a bruised jaw, stabbing pain in his temple and dry blood crusting his snout, being jostled and dragged off his feet is a slight too far._

_Fighting the lackeys every step of the way, tempers flare and harsh words fly. Shadow has no qualms running his mouth, snarling back through teeth grit against the pain in his bones as the elder ignores the commotion behind, slowing only to light a cigarette. It would have continued the whole way to the Jackal Squad hideout if one of the youngsters hadn't lost his patience and cuffed the ebon about an ear, whereupon the hedgehog finally snaps._

_He thrashes so violently, a captors releases his bicep and Shadow immediately twists away, turning his free fist on the other jackal. The punch is weak, his form terrible and gives plenty of time to flinch; gloved knuckles graze his tawny jaw and a moment later, his arm is snatched behind his back, and a swift application of steel toe-cap to the back of a knee makes him crumple to all fours._

_Yet where his body fails, his mouth picks up the slack as Shadow struggles against their firm hold. "I can damn well walk alone, so keep your fucking hands-"_

_Fingers knot with ebon quills and yank his head back so aggressively that Shadow hisses with pain as some dislodge, eyes squeezing shut briefly before squinting at his aggressor. Looming over him, Gray takes a drag of his cigarette then pinches it with two claws, pulling it clear to release a slew of smoke alongside quiet words. "Now you listen good, hedgehog. 'Cause I'm only gonna say this once."_

_Stink of nicotine and smoke making the ebon cough, the gangster apparently finds offensive; he gives obsidian quills another tug and speaks in sharp irritation. "Don't fucking sass me, boy. You gon get yourself beat t'death real fucking fast takin' your frustrations out on the boss' pups. Now calm the fuck down."_

_The orphaned Chaotic growls in dissent and Gray sighs, the tired frown overtaking his face adding years to an already aged appearance. He takes another drag of his gasper before blowing smoke directly into Shadow's face without breaking eye contact, almost daring him to gag again. "The boss thinks you got potential, so you get a pass this time. But touch them kits again I'll knock you out, and won't get no dinner, neither. Got it, asshole?"_

_Gray releases him, but the relief is short-lived. As soon as the elder lets go his lackeys drag the hedgehog back to his feet with little care. Still pained and irritable, Shadow returns the rough handling with defiance, fighting every forced movement to the best of his feeble ability as the silvered jackal finishes up his smoke._

_"Let him be a while," Gray finally states while staring at the ebon, casually tucking his hands into pants pockets. "The toothpick could do with a walk."_

_The youngsters pausing in their efforts, Shadow uses the opportunity to study the elder more closely. He would seem feeble at his age if not for thick ropes of muscle through biceps and filling his pants at the thighs. The man dresses sharply for a criminal, his three-piece suit ironed to a crisp crease and hair kept military short, as neat and utilitarian as his mannerisms._

_Still indignant at the rough handling, the ebon wrenches his arms free with a growl, not bothering to look at his captors to focus instead on the main threat. Catching attentive ambers as the jackal dispassionately flicks his stub away, Shadow is a little unnerved by his calculating gaze and overly calm demeanour, fostering the sense of utter control even as the hedgehog disobeys._

_Gray seems unimpressed by his defiance; he meets the hedgehog's stare for a heartbeat then spins on his heel, leaving Shadow and young subordinates to follow at the same brisk pace as before without a superfluous word._

_Twenty minutes - and more walking than Shadow's ever done - later, they make it to the hideout. It's tiny, a single room containing all the daily amenities except for plumbing and in a decrepit state, abandoned in such a poor condition it wasn't worth salvaging._

_The Squad have tried to make it at least liveable; holes in the rotted wood exteriors are filled with shed pelt to keep out drafts while swathes of fabric have been pinned over the glassless windows to keep heat in, but the interior is still unbearably cold despite their efforts. The fur insulation has the room reeking of wet dog and makes him gag, but he isn't subjected to the repulsive smell for long; marched through the hut and out another door into an overgrown yard, he's led to a lean-to shed with two small rooms._

_The first seems to be being used as an office. Boxes and files litter the room in a seemingly random manner, no furniture besides a desk and two chairs: an old armchair acting as an office chair, a padded dining chair opposite. Before he can study much of it he's ordered to remove gloves, shoes and socks, then shunted into the adjacent room and told to clean up._

_Shadow has never been so relieved to have a shower._

_The water is hot and pressurised, the beat on his aching muscles as soothing as any massage. Not harassed to be quick, he takes his time cleaning through quill bundles. Unknotting filthy pelt, bringing vibrance back to crimson streaks so striking against obsidian fur, it feels good to be physically and emotionally free of the grime, stepping out feeling refreshed after shaking the excess off._

_Already reinvigorated and too anxious to eat, he refuses the proffered hot meal and instead takes the time to dry thoroughly. Locked in the office, permitted a tankard of water and a bundle of thin blankets, Shadow soon finds the latter essential in the drafty lean-to and draws the sheets around his shoulders. Wishing he still had his meagre clothing, he shivers and shuffles into the corner, trying to get warm while residual dampness leeches the heat from his flesh._

_Sleep doesn't come easy, nor is it restful, vivid dreams all haunted by lost companions and broken promises._

* * *

\--

The detective was never late for work, always drinking coffee in his office by the time Sonic gets in for his shifts. Not once in six months had Sonic beaten him in, even when he'd been an hour early and fresh off a run interrupted by rain. His co-workers called the ebon a workaholic, the Chaotic with a snooker cue up his ass trying to make a name for himself in Human society, surprisingly disrespectful despite his achievements. 

Sonic had laughed awkwardly, his aspirations ruthlessly belittled and role model mocked, yet left unchallenged for fear of being ostracized. Secretly, he looked up to the ebon with reverence; the first Chaotic to be employed in police enforcement, let alone the first to make DCI. A true beacon of possibility that shattered every barrier others had failed to overcome in pursuit of his goal.

_"You should never meet your heroes, Sonny."_

He'd scoffed at his Uncle's cynicism after making Junior. Shadow was always in the newspapers in Lower and Old Westside, the front line investigator for everything from theft to murder. With a near-perfect case record any old Human would have gotten commendations for but too busy doing his job well to care, Sonic had been enthused to learn he'd be assisting the locally famous detective.

Those first few hours, he'd honestly worried Chuck was right; in person Shadow is argumentative and stubborn, traits that likely helped when dealing with city trash. The detective seems unable to turn them off though, and treats both criminals and co-workers the same. Coupled with excessive drink, constant smokes and abhorrent vocabulary he isn't pleasant company for associates or the general public, which Sonic plans to address.

Except the obsessively early detective is nowhere to be seen, and after his minor explosion in _Rouge's_ the night before Sonic can't help but worry. Hoping he went home as suggested, the azure waits ten minutes then skips out with the ebon's address, stopping to grab them some breakfast from the cafe while he forces down the dread building in his gut.

A quick chat with Amy and bacon baps in hand, he finds Shadow's apartment block in Old Lower Westside with a bit of difficulty. Despite growing up nearby, Sonic hasn't been to the ancient city center due to its reputation; this is where the drug addicts and sex workers linger, single moms and financially destitute families scraping out a living surrounded by quick fix loansharks, detrimental vices and questionable ways to make a quick buck. 

The only time he'd ever heard Uncle Chuck sound afraid was when he could no longer handle odd jobs, his loss of income to supplement Vanilla's low earnings a blow to their stability. At thirteen, it'd been unnerving to hear his stoic parental figure sound concerned enough to consider selling his codeine on the street to pay overdue bills.

Sonic began working in the neighbourhood that same week, taking up Chuck's old jobs where possible. He isn't one to let life beat him down, and this place is no exception.

Not letting the location intimidate him, Sonic weaves through back alleys that reek of piss and shit, selectively blind to discarded medical instruments and broken glass to focus on his search. The district is dead, little more than a chill in the air and the occasional shouts of unsupervised kids, the naive ghosts haunting a Quarter of forgotten lives and lost potential.

It leaves an unsettling, eerie impression he can't shake. The instant he finds the apartment block, Sonic dives inside and with a hand on the wall for balance, takes a moment to regain lost composure, embarrassed by fears simple rumours have instilled in his bones. 

_Pull yourself together, Sonic._

_You're a police officer now, time to start acting like it._

Noticing how greasy the wall feels beneath bare fingers, the azure retracts his palm, studying the thin film of orange dirt on previously pristine fur with a cringe. Unsure of the source of the substance but certain he doesn't want to know, Sonic wipes his hand on his coat with a grunt of disgust and finally studies the interior lobby, entirely not surprised at the state it's been left in.

Stained with the disgusting substance, bare plaster once white now more closely resembling bile bows out from water damage at random intervals. Cracks spin like webs up beside a dull, brown staircase missing many banisters and a few steps, all of which creak with each step Sonic takes upwards. 

Tiny windows back onto the equally-dilapidated dark facades of other blocks, doing little to light his way. The azure clings to the unstable railing for guidance, taking each step cautiously until he reaches the top floor. While most floors have two apartments, the top has just one; nestled between fire escapes and angular roof segments visible out minimal glass portholes, Sonic is sure the home is smaller than his own. 

It's also higher than he anticipated; the air is noticeably colder than on ground level and shivering, the azure pulls his coat close as he approaches the old wooden door, staring at it for a long minute. He scans every inch of that worn wood for a wordless explanation for the ebon's unusual tardiness, but finds nothing. 

His throat burns with questions regarding the file under his arm, a twitch in the corner of his mouth refusing to settle with an anxious flare as warm puffs of breath ghost into chill air.

He can't shake the feeling something isn't right, but with only a gut feeling to go on and breakfast rapidly getting cold, Sonic draws a deep breath and raps on the door. His quills flex with concern at how loose it is in its frame. The _thump_ of his fist and rattle of the door against the lock echoing through the empty landing, ringing in his ears almost painfully after the silence.

The azure waits with bated breath for a response, a grunt of acknowledgement or irritated growl. Concern builds with every moment that passes without answer, and after a minute he knocks more insistently, abruptly stopping when the door judders free of its faulty bolt. 

Hackles raised, sharp emeralds snap up to peer inside, but it's too dark to make out anything beyond a few feet from the entrance. "You okay, Shads? It's gone nine." 

Tentative words met with silence, the cerulean presses a palm to the door and gives a gentle push, unsettled that it creaks open so easily. He wishes he hadn't come by himself right then, had gotten at least an errand boy to accompany him to sprint back if they found trouble, but it's far too late for that now. "I got breakfast. I'm gonna come in and-"

"Don't-" 

The Junior freezes mid-stride as his mentor cuts off after one word, immediately descending into a fit of hacking, mucousy coughs. He waits patiently, glad the detective can't see the pity on his face or lowered ears as Shadow hacks up a lung, ended definitively by a _tink_ of spit hitting his bedpan. 

"Don't come in, I'm indecent." There's a pause, a lesser cough and another _tink_ before the ebon continues in his hoarse voice. "Had a bad night. I need a while to shower and dress."

"Sure thing," the younger hedgehog replies, drawing his leg back to the doorway. He's about to slip out to give Shadow some privacy when he's sure he hears another voice and freezes on the spot. From this angle, he can't see inside the apartment proper, but now noticing what he can see within, the scene becomes quickly concerning.

A dining table lay on its side with its chairs scattered, the legs of one broken, fresh-looking laundry strewn about the dusty floor and damp newspaper beneath. On the wall to his left, claw marks rake through yellowed paper and leave divots so deep in the plaster he guesses they were made in an aggressive or painful manner. 

He can't immediately place the smell lingering either, but it's hot and potent in the tiny flat, only intensifying when Sonic crouches to study a dry, white fluid splashed on the wall and plaster molding below. 

Curiosity overpowering sense he scratches it with a claw, frowning slightly as it comes off in small flakes like paint and expels a repugnant odor into the air. Then the scent strikes a cord in his memory and Sonic reels back from the cum stain he'd just willingly stuck his claw in, only to straighten and pivot as a _zip_ draws his attention.

His breath quickens as he recognises the figure; Infinite stands beside a bed with a smirk curling his lips, still pinching his zipper between two fingers, conspicuously shirtless in Shadow's apartment. A myriad of thoughts, fears and hypotheses suddenly loose in Sonic's mind, his shirtless state makes one in particular stand out.

Worried emeralds dart to the bed, but relief of meeting scowling rubies is short lived; emitting the slightest hiss of pain as he straightens, Shadow is obviously stiff and in pain. A deep purple bruise blossoms below tan fur on the right side of his muzzle while the slow, deliberate movements elude to more beneath dark pelt. Then his sheets fall to his lap, and blood rushes to Sonic's cheeks at the copious amount of fluid matting abdominal fur.

Sonic can't breathe, nor stop staring as Shadow pulls the sheets back up and growls something out, but the words don't register over the rapid beat in the Junior's ears. When he mentioned owing the jackal for his papers, the azure assumed Shadow meant _money_ and _favours_ , not his _body_. 

_This isn't happening._

_Shadow wouldn't let this happen, right?_

_Nothing is worth a criminal defiling your body._

It doesn't quite feel real as Sonic unconsciously steps back to the still-open door, dropping their breakfast to the floor. Movement from the culprit finally dragging his attention from his mentor, emeralds flick back to the jackal as he turns to grab his shirt. 

Sonic gets a brief look at the worst wounds he's ever seen; deep welts criss-cross though Infinite's striped pelt from shoulder to tailbone. Some traverse the entire length of his spine in a single stroke, but regardless of length almost all are so deep, the fur hasn't grown back, leaving thick lines of pink and greyed flesh in their wake.

He read Infinite's file in training; a ruthless gangster who lead the Jackal Squad, notoriously untouchable with few crimes even remotely linked to him during twenty-two years of operation. At least, besides the death of his predecessor, the Beast of Westside. They'd detained and interviewed the then-nameless jackal, confident enough they had their man to mock up a sketch carefully shaded to show his distinctive eye colours.

Infinite's hair had been shorter, his expression severe, but the nicks and scars on his ears and muzzle were hard to misplace. He'd been released only a few hours later, and had not been formally arrested since, but what got Sonic that hadn't been mentioned was his back. He can't help but wonder what else is missing from his woefully incomplete rap sheet, especially with Shadow wrapped around his pinkie finger.

A step back and they're out of sight, another and he hits the door. The creak of wood makes him jump away and coupled with a loss of visual contact, startles Sonic back to his senses. Heart thumping, stiff ears they turn to the shifting of sheets and rustle of clothing, but it's the detective's snarling tone that slices through thought and raises the azure's hackles

" _Get the_ **_fuck_ ** _out of my fucking apartment before I stuff your damned sandwich so far down your fucking_ **_throat_ ** _, you'll shit it out_ **_whole_ ** _before lunch."_

Complying without hesitation, he backs out with a hand behind to feel for the frame, eyes locked forwards not in focus but detached shock. He's still trying to understand what he just witnessed as Shadow orders the jackal to get out as well, unable to believe it's not a misconception. The hope doesn't stand up to the evidence, though; his mentor had been a mess, the room stank of arousal and cum, and with both of them basically naked...

_Hell, there's dried cum on the wall..._

_Shadow didn't let this happen, Infinite_ **_made_ ** _it happen._

Unable to shake the memory of Infinite's cocky smirk, of the definitive zip of his pants to nail home the perverted reason for his visit, Sonic feels sick to his stomach as the perpetrator of the detective's discomfort steps out the apartment disheveled but thankfully clothed. He walks casually, closing the door against the hiss of the shower starting with unexpected care before he turns, catching the azure's gaze as he takes a bite of the sandwich Sonic hadn't realised he dropped. 

"You're the detective's new pup, then?" Sonic freezes up beneath his gaze, mismatched eyes locked to jades as he takes another bite, chews and swallows. "It was rude of him to not introduce us, though I suppose tensions were running high yesterday."

"That's Shadow's sandwich," the azure states, unable to make his brain cooperate beyond stating the obvious. In bid to save face, Sonic takes a deep breath and forces his mind to elaborate, hand fisting at his side as he clutches the file to his chest. "Eating someone else's breakfast is way ruder than not knowing my name, don't you think?"

Infinite's gaze scours the azure's frame as he chews, and Sonic has to suppress the slight quiver of fear travelling through tense muscles as distinctive irises devour every inch of his body. When their eyes meet again, he smirks and swallows, that same unerring confidence as inside the flat. "This is your breakfast, Pup. It would be cruel to deprive the detective of nourishment after working up _such_ an appetite. With me. _All night._ "

Fear and revulsion trickle down Sonic's spine, but a fire also sparks in his muscles. For the first time in his life, the junior itches to take a swing at someone, though he keeps it to a flex of his fingers and tight tone. "It's _Sonic_. I'm nobody's pup, and I know who you are without an introduction, Infinite. But you should leave. Shads and I have work to do."

"Indeed you do." 

He holds the hedgehog's gaze longer than necessary after that acknowledgement, turquoise and amber irises locked curiously to emeralds. Sonic is uncomfortable but daren't make any more demands, rooted to the spot with air frozen in his lungs while time seems to slow to a crawl, only to snap back to normal as Infinite speaks. 

"Tell the detective my boys will have his dealer secure within the hour, but he's only there until sundown." The monochromatic jackal doesn't wait for confirmation as he turns to leave, already starting down the steps before Sonic can wonder what he's on about as the jackal adds: "Make sure he eats that sandwich, and keep him sober. He's a damned poor interrogator when he's buzzed."

_You got a lead on the dealer?_

_Is that what Shadow repaid you for last night?_

_Why aren't Shads and I bringing him in for questioning?_

Too many questions to focus on, Sonic looks back to the apartment as the shower inside stops, ears flattened to his skull in uncertainty. Knowing he's about to interfere with a person of interest, Sonic should have attempted to detain the jackal to preserve their suspect's integrity. 

But he lets Infinite leave unhindered, throwing protocol out the window in favour of Shadow's physical welfare. The detective yanks the door open a minute later in just a towel, steam billowing out of the small room as they stare each other down until Shadow steps away without a word, leaving the door wide open.

Not looking back, Sonic follows him inside and shuts the door firmly behind them both. Trying not to stare at the ebon or mention his pronounced limp, he sets the table and surviving chair right silently, staring right through all of it as his brain ticks over. Retrieving discarded clothes to fold atop the table, he glances over a shoulder when the ebon hisses in pain pulling on a shirt and can't keep a flood of pity filling his chest.

_You're already in too deep. I see that now._

_But I'll do everything I can to get you out, Shadow._

_I promise._


	8. Morbid Curiosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing about today is as Sonic expected..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, did you know we have a Discord full of extra shit (Sims scene builds, character profiles, general discussions and a ton of spin-off oneshots)?
> 
> Here's the link:  
> https://discord.gg/E2Kjhnu
> 
> Hope to see you there!

**CHAPTER EIGHT: MORBID CURIOSITY**

They sit in silence besides Shadow ripping into his bap with surprising gusto, given how little he'd eaten the day before. Sonic is dragged from near-hypnosis and back to reality when the kettle hisses atop the stove; he blinks dumbly, glancing in its general direction in momentary confusion, then remembers his promise to make coffee and springs across the small apartment to do so.

Apparently starving after whatever happened the night prior, the detective had paused getting dressed to eat as soon as Sonic offered it but hasn't made eye contact since, far too busy devouring his breakfast. The scent of scalding coffee is too much to ignore, though; the ebon looks up with a mouthful of bacon and pauses mid chew as Sonic turns, an unexpected ruby stare freezing him in place with two steaming mugs in hand.

Shadow looks strangely disquiet, perhaps even nervous, but when dark ears fold and his mentor looks away with chews slowed and bap lowered to his lap, Sonic realises it's neither. The emotion is painful to observe on anyone but is especially so on the ebon he'd idolised for almost half his life, wishing he could make it go away as he hands over a mug and sits nearby. __

_ He's ashamed. _

_ There's no way he wanted this. _

"Shads, I think-"

"If it's not about a case, I don't want to hear it." Despite his words, the detective's tone is far calmer than at any point yesterday. He dares a glance back to Shadow and is surprised to find him composed, not looking away but meeting his look brazenly, all remnants of shame erased in those few moments. "We've a busy schedule today, so stay focused and save your asinine queries for later."

Thoroughly shut down, Sonic looks away as his ears and quills lower submissively, silence returning to the room until he's cherry-picked his next question carefully. "So, I read through some of your case last night and noticed the autopsy is signed by a 'Professor D. Schlemmer'. Is that the guy we're seeing today or did, like, his granddad or dad or someone have the same job before?"

Shadow downs the remains of his coffee and stands. Not able to swallow a grunt of discomfort he pauses, palm on the wall and back slightly bent a moment, then stiffly walks his mug over to the sink. "Schlemmer has worked as a mortician for almost forty years, and has been with the SSPD for over thirty. Most, if not all autopsies in that time, were conducted and signed off by the same man."

The azure whistles. "That's a long time. He's good at his job, huh?"

"Yes," the detective comments, rinsing his mug before turning back to his mentee. Dark fingers steadier than usual slowly work the last buttons of his collared shirt. "He's thorough and attentive, if a little eccentric. I've no idea why his report on the Robotnik case was so sparse, but since then his reports have been impeccable."

Sipping his coffee, Sonic looks down at the file in his lap. The junior had gotten through the official report and a quarter of Shadow's notes before falling asleep, pages of potential robbery suspects an inadequate pillow for the dining table. Woken by the gentle shake of his shoulder, he'd had to assure Vanilla he wasn't sick but had a long night of research for a case, though she'd insisted on taking his vitals before leaving for her own work.

Schlemmer's report was only a page or two behind the sparse official document, and he has to agree it's poor; a record of bullets found, explorative investigations to rule out other causes of death, and no burns in their airways or smoke damage in the lungs confirming they were dead before the fire started. No record of how extensive burns were though, instead stating they were identified by medical records and both died of a 'fatal headshot'.

He doesn't want to broach the subject with Shadow just yet. Curiosity and suspicions are one thing, but evidence and investigation are another entirely. There's obviously a history between this Professor and his mentor, one he can't attempt to shatter without adequate evidence. Not only because it would be impossible if they held a mutual respect, but because it isn't fair to accuse the old mortician without adequate proof.

_ Still, testing the waters won't hurt… _

"Might've been an off day," the azure muses aloud and isn't surprised Shadow tenses doing up his waistcoat. "I find it unlikely though, if he's usually thorough. Maybe something happened? An intern writing the report, or a bribe? Maybe even pressured to falsify his report by the perp, if either street gang were involved. We should-"

"Schlemmer wrote it," the ebon replies curtly without looking up from the remaining buttons, fingers slow and meticulous as if requiring focus to achieve. "You think I haven't asked already? That I'd allow admiration of his ability to blind sense? Bias is not a curse I'm afflicted by, hedgehog. The old coot wrote it, of that I'm certain."

The junior stays in silent contemplation while the ebon pulls on his shoes, moves deliberate as he stretches out sore muscles. Despite claiming penmanship, the report isn't up to Schlemmer's usual standards, and that itself is concerning. Lying to protect the elder mortician would be counterproductive for Shadow, so that's an unlikely scenario, nor does he believe the detective would allow his trust to be displaced.

_ Bribed, maybe compromised... _

A thought that makes him nauseous. The ebon detective might have questionable ties, but someone influential enough to falsify documents  _ and _ get them past Eggman is a real concern. As the SSPD held jurisdiction over the mayor and the senator to stem any potential corruption, that meant there were few possibilities to consider, and all of them are as troublesome as the last.

Of course the mayor or senator could be a perp. Unlikely with how often they're in the public eye, though. That left those with influence - namely, Infinite and his Squad and Nack of the Roughnecks - and those with money. Again the latter is unlikely, given the few truly wealthy humans in the city were often in the press, making them vulnerable to detection should they ruffle up attention.

That leaves the Squad and the Roughnecks, and either Infinite having  _ more  _ sway in law enforcement than he had through Shadow, or Nack having an in at all, leaves a deep frown scrunching his features. He needs to talk with Schlemmer as for all his redeeming qualities, Shadow's loyalty is absolute; the energy required to get past his deflections and extract the truth would be better used questioning the mortician directly.

_ "Junior Detective."  _

Brought to his senses by his irritation, Sonic's attention snaps back to the detective, quills flexing uncomfortably beneath his stern crimsons. They turn away as Shadow snags his coat and habitually fishes for smokes, speaking in tired tones. "Focus, for Christ's sake. There's no point clinging to me if you don't engage."

Azure quills bristle indignantly, patience finally wearing thin as the stress of his mentor's predicament and the possible consequences, should his own case expose how deeply involved he is with the Squad. "I  _ am _ focused. On  _ your _ case. Or did you forget sending me off with enough late night reading for a week when Espio kicked you to the curb for being so damn  _ rude _ ?"

A breath passes, heavily weighted by the surprise on the ebon's features but even more so, the tension across his shoulders. Despite the bruises from last night, Sonic hadn't expected his slim mentor to meet his threat with fight reflexes; dark fingers curl into fists, Shadow's entire core tensed but remaining limber and his maw taking a slant at odds with the uncertainty wavering in his eyes.

But it's a reflex he's seen before; homeless kids caught red handed stealing food, adults and kids alike ready to defend that night's shelter or their few possessions, the fear of uncertainty yet determination to overcome. It's proof he's been on the streets for an extended period before, with the Squad or otherwise. 

Suddenly, it's no wonder Shadow's trapped in the Squad leader's clawed grasp. He must owe far more to Infinite than false papers and underground contacts. He recalls noting a handful of years between the fire and the ebon applying to join the SSPD, and makes another note to do the math when he has a moment to later decipher how long Shadow had been under the influence of the Squad leader, though the need flares another course of anxiety through his already tense frame.

He takes a steadying breath, frustration huffs out with the air a few seconds later. Forcing his quills down and folding his ears apologetically, Sonic offers his mentor a weak smile. "Sorry, I… the file's so thick. I got through a quarter of it at most. It's a real heavy read, too. Some of - or more lack of - detail keeps playing on my mind when it's quiet, and it's kinda stressing me out."

The ebon stares like he suddenly grew a third arm and Sonic's smile wavers only slightly. Though before it can worsen he forces himself to stand and checks his watch, glad his mentor doesn't flinch at the sudden movement, no matter how frayed his nerves may be. "You're fine, it's just more stress than I'm used to. So, you ready? We don't wanna keep Schlemmer waiting longer than we already have. It's almost nine-thirty."

He grabs his blazer and turns his back on the ebon to pull it on, using the moment to silently chastise himself. Losing his cool looks bad. Shadow could have him taken off the force with a single recommendation if he wanted but also, he knows too much about the sullen detective to be let off easy, of that much he's certain.

Momentary panic flutters up his throat upon realising his mentor could have Infinite and the Squad 'deal with him' in a heartbeat. Both of them had too much to lose by the truth and the jackal kingpin is known to be as ruthless as he is scarred; there's nothing he wouldn't do. While the ebon is a little… bent, surely he'd never stoop to such a criminal low, to turn a blind eye to murdering a friend to keep his own secrets. 

_ Right _ ?

"Indeed," the detective comments, his previously hoarse tone revitalised to its usual disdain-tinged, low rumble by coffee. "Meet me in the car. She needs warming up before she'll go. It will take me some time to get down the stairs, but you're right; Schlemmer has waited long enough. Though I swear to God, if her engine gets burnt out from your overzealous revving, I'll skin you for new upholstery."

The threat oddly reassuring, Sonic turns to reassure the ebon he'll be careful only to have the keys thrown at his face without warning, though quick reflexes catch them before they either ricochet off his flesh or get lost in the papers littering the floor. They stand in silence for what feels like an eternity, Shadow lighting a gasper and Sonic in some level of minor shock, then straightens with a glare that spurs the younger into action. "Oh, right.  _ Yes. _ You can count on me. Just be careful, okay?"

The detective snorts indignantly and draws on his cig, but Sonic is half way down the first flight of stairs by the time he's exhaling. His thoughts won't stop whirring, his anxieties uncomfortably prominent after what he'd seen and Shadow's unwillingness to open up, but most of all his interests have been piqued. 

At least three separate things don't make sense with the cold case, but for now they all lead back to Schlemmer, and Sonic can't wait to question him.

\--

It takes over fifteen minutes to navigate the eight flights of stairs between his apartment and the street, far longer than usual as every step sends dull aches through his tailhole. Shadow is glad to make it to the car without needing a third short break. Until Sonic ruins his elation by refusing to vacate the driver's seat. 

"You're obviously in pain," he states, heat rushing to tan cheeks with embarrassment as his junior adds. "I don't think driving is a good idea, especially after all those stairs. Besides, I can drive! Our roommate taught me in her little wagon thing, before she had to sell it. It's been a while but it's like riding a bike, right? You never forget! I can-"

"If you damage her, there's no replacement. Nicole has been altered to allow me to drive her unaided, without any special equipment despite its human design." The realisation he used her name gives Shadow pause, but he quickly decides to gloss over it. Even Gerald had named his car. "Now get out of my seat, before I move you aside by force."

"No." Sonic's fingers flex on the wheel, gripping the leather tight soon afterwards as determination sets his features. He's stubborn to a fault, an attribute Shadow would've commended if applied to a case, but now it's infuriating. They stare at each other with equal stubbornness until the ache in his ass starts to shoot through his thighs and he's forced to cave. 

With a mountain of attitude the detective limps around the bonnet, lowering carefully into the passenger seat as Sonic keeps his attention elsewhere. He's sure to slam the door hard to convey displeasure, setting windows aquiver as he hunches in the leather upholstery. A huff of breath and quick shift later, he's glaring out the side window with arms folded across his chest and jaw tight, waiting for Sonic to start driving.

They sit in silence for a long minute, the purr of Nicole's engine and her owner's huffed breaths the soundtrack to a mind burned blank with frustration. He'd have dealt with Sonic seeing his limp easily, with the azure catching the jackal leaving with a little difficulty, but to catch him half naked  _ with _ Infinite is an entirely new ballgame he's not anticipated and more than anything, it's mortifying.

"Hey Shads?" He growls softly without looking back and hears Sonic swallow, a satisfying outcome. "Not trying to bother you further or anything, but I-"

"If this question regards my physical state, I  _ will _ forcibly remove your liver, cure it into a paperweight and give it to Towers for his thirty years of service gift next year." 

Glancing to his Junior, noting the wide emeralds and his tight grip on the steering wheel, remorse hits Shadow hard; he's always been good at leaving stress at home but now, with work unintentionally invading his private life through this naive hedgehog, it's getting harder with each passing day. 

Though it's unlikely Sonic would expose his activities with the Squad intentionally given his character, being overly aggressive will make him  _ more  _ likely to decide it's in his best interest to report his mentor. Additionally, if Infinite knew the youngster was a threat to their deals he wouldn't hesitate to have Sonic removed, something Shadow won't permit to happen to an innocent thrust into the city's sewers by virtuous career decisions.

He sighs and rests his head back, eyes fluttering closed as the physical and emotional fatigue of an entire night between the sheets catches up with him. Usually far less volatile after a transaction with the jackal, it's odd for the effect to be reversed when they overindulge during a work week, trying to settle his irritation while adding: "Just ask, Junior Detective. I'm far too tired for idiocy."

Though it's Shadow who feels the fool as the azure says hesitantly. "Uh, I… I need directions to the mortician..."

\--

_ This is… not what I imagined a mortuary to look like. _

Pausing at the gate, the azure takes a moment to study the picturesque cottage and neatly landscaped garden in Outer Central, an area he's never visited before. It's obviously affluent and predominantly Human, with any Chaotics they have seen so far sporting the hallmarks of Ownership; mostly bands and anklets, a few collars with tags or personalisation, even an elderly cat with a faded tattoo. 

It all makes him uncomfortable, but the detective seems unmoved by it all, going about his business like nothing has changed between here and Old Lower. Shadow exits the car as soon as the handbrake is set, leaving his junior to scramble after him as it was becoming the norm. He's already navigating the handful of steps up to the porch when Sonic stops with his hand on the white picket gate to marvel at the home before them, a set up he and his family could only dream of, flabbergasted a Chaotic had the money or social standing to pull off such a feat.

The cottage has upstairs windows, but the shape of the sloped roof suggests it's mere storage, with livable space all situated on the ground floor. The front is mirrored on either side of a wide front door, tall windows allowing light to stream inside, highlighting old furniture and carefully organised clutter on both sides. Obviously well cared for, freshly painted window frames and manicured lawn a testament to their owner, and Sonic can't help feel a slight pang of jealousy for the beautiful home.

Three buttons quite like apartment buzzers have been mounted on the doorframe, though none of them are labelled. Shadow bypasses the first two and presses his thumb to the last, the little box emitting an obnoxious hiss for the brief moment the ebon holds it down. It's an odd setup for a house. Sonic heads through the gate and has just shut it when another buzz sounds, preluding the door clicking off its lock. Not wanting to be left outside to wait, he picks up his pace to a jog and closes the last few feet of the garden quickly, slipping inside behind his mentor and careful to set the door in its housing before following the ebon hedgehog into Schlemmer's abode.

The entryway is tiny, a door on either side of a small square space without even a place to hang coats and hats. To his right, glass-panelled doors lead to a cozy sitting area half-obscured by curtains. To the left, another identical door stands open to a more utilitarian area closer to a waiting room; chairs, an empty coat rack, an old table with newspapers scattered across its surface and more doors, one of which Shadow doesn't hesitate to open after hanging his coat and hat. The azure follows suit in silence, letting curious emeralds scour the next room - an office nook barely qualifying as more than a cupboard - and then another door that passes into a wide, two-story deep open space set into the ground below.

Though sure this is the mortuary, any doubts are erased by the overbearing stench of chemical cleaners and the unfamiliar scent of sterility. While Shadow already heads down to the basement level, Sonic takes a moment to look down on the room below; stark white tiles extend from floor to the ceiling way above, while pristine metal filing cabinets and desks glisten in the harsh lighting, not an instrument out of place beside the stone slab set in the middle of the room. Amongst them, an oddly green Chaotic mutters to himself. Ginger hair so thick it stands upright on his scalp, but a single shock of white up the side shaped like a lightning bolt and painfully hunched back allude to advanced age, though the elder moves easily between cabinets searching for something, seemingly unaware they've entered his workplace.

Swallowing down nausea brought on by overwhelmingly potent chemical smells, Sonic takes the metal steps into the basement with speed, jogging down them until he's directly behind Shadow for the last few. The ebon seems to be in pain without voicing his discomfort, his grasp on the railing tight and teeth grit. The Junior decides not to bring it up, not wishing to embarrass his mentor in front of a colleague, and lets the elder take the lead once he's caught his breath and regained any lost composure.

"Schlemmer," the detective states blandly, only to raise his voice when the old Chaotic doesn't seem to hear.  _ "Professor Schlemmer." _

The man turns so suddenly that Sonic expects him to fall over, but while his hair bends with the unexpected momentum before righting itself once more, Schlemmer himself seems surefooted. It's his first look at the old mortician's face and the azure has to keep his features forcefully set in benign disinterest at how weird he looks; his eyes are small and beady, almost black and set deep into wrinkled skin, nose so bulbous and long it passes his mouth, helping obscure the massive overbite peeking out of exceptionally thin lips. 

"Where?!" Looking around the morgue frantically with his clawless fingers raised in excitement, the odd elder then chuckles at his own eccentricity and relaxes. "Ah, zis is me, yis? I am Schlemmer. Vhat can I do for you, mister...?" 

Shadow stares at the elder Chaotic tiredly as seconds drag past in silence, until the elder dressed in bland slacks and a lab coat startles out of his internal musings with an audible gasp. "Detectif! You should not be sneaking up on me! I am too old for this nonsense. If my back were better, I'd bend you across my knee und-"

_ "Schlemmer," _ the ebon interrupts, features set with an oddly calm expression, given how odd the Professor has responded thus far. "The canid corpse. Give me details."

The old Chaotic huffs and retrieves a file from his desk, a file Shadow passes to Sonic without a word. The azure looks down at the folder in his palms, flexing his fingers on the thick beige cover before he flips the card sleeve open, immediately struck by how detailed the dissection sheet is compared to the report in the cold case; both front and back depictions of the victim are scrawled on in slanting penmanship obviously similar to the other file but his observations are more intricate, everything from the tiniest bruise to smallest scar catalogued with probable age and origin noted beneath in cursive. 

There's almost too much information. His ear turned to their conversation is momentarily deafened by the sheer volume of data to read, missing their initial exchange but tuning in as Schlemmer continues to ramble. "Mm, it is not making sense, that I see, yis? Vhy did he drown but not struggle? Vhere did his drugs go? Vhat vas some doing on his jacket, if it vere a drop? Seems he has been ambush-ed to me. Ze  _ sapien _ body does not give itself to death so easily, mm? Even knocked out, it reacts to the dangehairs of death; convulsions, coughing and choking. This boy... he was medically unconscious, zat I am sure."

"So he was drugged?" Both crimson and obsidian irises settle on the junior detective, and Sonic inhales courage. "I mean, he drowned but didn't fight it. He was drugged, right? But was it on the dust Shads found on his shirt, or something else? Can you even tell?"

The ebon glances to his elder to explain, but Schlemmer continues to blink at the azure blankly with large incisors hanging out of his mouth. Eventually turning on Shadow, he raises a hand to shield his mouth despite how loud his whispers are. "Detectif, vho is zis boy? Is he cause for your… altered step? It is highly unprofessional to bring new conquests to vork, you know." 

Across the room, the azure's muzzle and shoulders flush red beneath his tan pelt for a second time that day, very uncomfortable with how Shadow's associates think he's someone's toy. Both sets of eyes turn on him once more, Sonic's blush becoming a burn as Shadow doesn't attempt to correct his colleague and further agitated by the glint of humour in crimson irises, he eventually does so himself. "What?  _ No! _ I'm not his-"

Shlemmer's hand goes limp with embarrassment at his mistake, at least Sonic thinks so until the elder Chaotic adds softly: "I am zee Dumkoff. I should have made tea."

The detective raises a fist to his muzzle but rather than cough, a chuckle rumbles in Shadow’s chest. It's a quiet, short-lived sound the azure almost convinces himself is imaginary, but a small smile on his usually downturned lips and relaxed disposition as he pats the Professor's shoulder strongly suggests otherwise. "You know I despise tea, Dinglehoper. Besides, Sonic is my junior detective _ , not _ a piece of ass, and neither is he single. His skirt works a cafe in Old Westside. You have no chance.”

Raking his fingers through his hair, Schlemmer pauses to tug them free with his other hand when they get knotted in the wild mass on his head, then tuts under his breath. “I’m not zat old, Detectif. I could still get a young man like Sonic if I vant. But my vork comes first.” Dark eyes flicker back to Sonic, the hedgehog stiff even after he looks away a bare moment later, meeting Shadow’s minor smirk with a wide smile. "But he is the candy for the eyes, yis? I vould not blame you for-"

" _ Dinglehoper _ ." 

"Arng, you are no fun after getting laid." 

It's weird to see someone speak so candidly with the detective, weirder still Shadow doesn't react as harshly as the day prior. He must be exhausted from last night, though Schlemmer mentions the encounter so casually and without being informed, Sonic realises the sullen hedgehog must turn up to work with an obvious limp frequently. They continue talking but Sonic phases out, clutching the pup's file tightly between tan fingers as that information registers, along with everything he's learned as dread settles in his chest.

_ How much does Schlemmer know? _

_ Is he allowing it? Condoning, even encouraging it? _

_ I need to get the guy alone and have a long chat. _

_ Maybe tonight, after work... _

“But yis. Zis poor pup vas unconscious, something more potent zan ze Yackal’s cheap Dust. I have no testing to confirm my suspicions, but ze presence of small injuries hidden between ze boy's fingers indicative of a needle is enough to make me believe zis is correct." He pauses for breath, and Sonic notices his features harden with every word he utters after pushing his small glasses up his far broader nose. "Ze criminal will have access to medical grade morphine or similar drugs, either at his profession or through an associate. Connections to ze Roughnecks or Yackal Squad also, depending on who he vorked for."

"Indeed," the ebon comments mellowed back to a more usual stoic state, pulling a hip flask from his breast pocket and absently unscrewing the top. "We've a lead on that possibility, some twitchy addict throwing drugs around like a supplier. I'd expect a body to process come morning, with such flagrant self-exposure."

The old Chaotic sighs, scratching his bulbous nose while Shadow takes a long swig from his flask. When offered a sip he declines silently, continuing in hopeful tones as the detective absently replaces the cap. "Until next time then, unless you do vant that cup of tea…?"

"I'd rather drink my own piss."


	9. Latchkey Relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much emotion from so few hedgehogs. A touch of reflective Sonamy and Infinadow. And Tails turns up, yay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to enabler and beta, Zee.  
> Thank you to Hannah, for enabling me some more.  
> And thank you Preda for the art work!
> 
> Want to see art, read unpublished spin-off shorts and smut, read character bios, have a laugh in crack land, see sets built in Sims or just hang out with us? We have a discord! Join today!
> 
> https://discord.gg/E2Kjhnu

**CHAPTER NINE: LATCHKEY RELATIONSHIPS**

_ Abode Café  _ is packed when Sonic steps in ahead of his mentor, buzzing with the working class grabbing a bite during their brief respite from the daily grind; workmen and labourers, nurses and Free servants, all crammed so tightly into the tiny space there's standing room only at the bar. They wait ten minutes for a table further inside to free up, an excruciatingly long time with an impatient Detective muttering about other venues in your ear, but the azure is determined to support Amy's livelihood.

Once seated, he watches the fuschia female two years his junior flit between tables with inexhaustible energy, a smile for every customer and laughter for every joke. She brightens up the cafe - has done since beginning to run coffees as a waitress in training. Always bright and bubbly, she'd started out a bit clumsy, meeting the azure when his quick reflexes saved the occupants a table over from being coated in scalding hot, bitter coffee.

_ With how graceful she is now, you wouldn't believe it. _

Amy glides between tables and patrons with ease, not a quiver through the tray raised above her head or coffee filling the pot in hand, brew hypnotically still even as she slips through the crowds and takes orders. Her face framed by a short crop of quills, a laugh that fills up the room music to his ears, that joyous and infectious smile he hasn't been able to get out of his head since that first hellish Heat Season, the room phases out of focus.

Amy Rose is perfect, even in her dowdy work dress and pinafore apron. He can't stop looking at her. At least, until lively emeralds meet enraptured jades. With heat rushing to his muzzle Sonic swallows and looks down at the table, a palm splayed across it's sticky surface for purchase. 

He's not sure when he fell for the fuschia waitress, but Sonic knows he can't act on it. 

_ There's no point; she's Owned. No better than property. _

_ Even if I could afford to buy her freedom, even if she- _

"Just fuck her already, would you?" Azure quills whip to the detective as he lights up, the older hedgehog taking a drag of his nicotine fix before speaking again, exhaling the smoke casually between words. "You've been staring at her since we sat down. Someone's going to think you a pervert and clock you in the mouth with that level of obsession. Get it out of your system, already."

Blush quickly spreading to his ear tips, Sonic leans in and hisses through grit teeth. "Can you not talk so loud? And no, I can't. Not only because it's immoral, irresponsible and I'm  _ way _ too young to risk having kids, but because she's… well, I'd have to ask her Owner…"

The detective tisks and takes another drag of his gasper, adding to the thick layer of hot smoke slowly floating to the ceiling. "I assure you plenty of Chaotics don't think it immoral. You need only glance down an alley in Old Westside to see that and even then, I guarantee half of those girls aren't getting paid for their services." 

The junior can't keep a mild disgust off his features, but recovers quickly when Amy manages to squeeze through to their table. He orders for them both - cheeseburgers with bacon, a basket of fries for the table, water for him and coffee for Shadow - then turns back to his mentor with a sour expression and voice low. "No offense, but you've not had the best influences when it comes to dating, so no. While on the topic though, you  _ could _ tell me - _ for real _ this time - why Infinite was in your apartment this morning?"

Ebon quills bristle. "To inform me of his lead-"

"Bullshit," the Junior Detective states, leaning in closer now to whisper. "He could've sent a lackey, or even not bothered at all, made the guy squawk and just killed him straight. Instead, the most recognisable criminal on the streets of Station Square walks Old Lower in the early hours - with no backup, I might add - to tell you something mundane _personally._ And you expect me to believe in disclosing the news, he _spontaneously lost his pants_ _and shirt_? That's nearly insulting."

Shadow tightens his jaw and looks away, taking another long drag of his cigarette. Sonic can see discomfort in his posture; claws grip the gasper so tightly they pierce the paper, forearm on the table with shoulders hunched and eyes cast to the room. The azure can't help locating every bruise disguised by dark fur in the ensuing silence between them; a deep purple blossom on his cheek, a less prominent one on the underside of his jaw and split lip that occasionally makes the older hedgehog flinch.

Feeling a slew of emotion - concern, pity and regret, to name a few - he's about to rephrase the question more compassionately when they're interrupted by Amy returning with drinks. She smiles and Sonic mirrors it, accepting the drinks with gratitude and noting the slight falter in her facade at a glance to his sullen mentor. Then she excuses herself, a light touch of his bicep as she slips back into the crowd sending shivers down Sonic's spine, and he can't help but watch her customer persona slip into place with practiced ease.

_ Maybe… I should just tell her? Where's the harm in that? _

"In all facets, our relationship is strictly business." Jade irises snap back to Shadow's low voice, ears pivoting to hear him over the ruckus of the busy cafe. "Whether it is handling tweakers, exchanging information or dealing in favours, though we often…  _ disagree." _

Crimsons stray up from his coffee just a second, then his mentor lowers his ears and looks away, taking a sip of his bitter brew. "He came to me personally because he intended to kill the son of a bitch last night. Regardless of if he came to rub my nose in it or provide a chance to negotiate, tempers flared at his delivery, which in turn led to the 'transaction' you stumbled on this morning. It did buy us an interrogation, however. You're welcome."

Shame emanates off the ebon as he smokes his gasper down to its last, silence falling once again until lunch is delivered. Shadow tucks in with vigor for a second time in one day but Sonic finds his appetite waning; so many questions have gone unanswered, even more raised by their exchange and the details obviously left out, but his mentor is obviously unwilling to discuss it further.

Despite a burning need to understand, Sonic doesn't ask any more questions. He's well aware the ebon doesn't like to be pushed into uncomfortable conversations, nor is he likely to provide information if pressed. Still, his gut swims with nausea fueled by concern for the detective. He must be deeply buried in the Squad's activities to be so firmly in the kingpin's claws, a worrying prospect for anyone, let alone a police officer risking his career.

_ Don't worry, Shads. I'll talk to Infinite later. _

_ Because whatever this is, it's gone on long enough. _

\--

Shadow directs the hedgehog still too stubborn to let him drive through the streets. Sonic wants to take him to a friend but the detective insists on using a locksmith he knows. Relieved and mildly concerned his junior does as he's told without arguing, they travel in an awkward silence punctuated by short, concise directions to a garage in the outskirts of Lower Central called The Shop.

The elderly human that owns the place is tolerable; an ex-army man with an honorable discharge, after seeing enemies in the bunk room and shooting an ally dead in panic. He possesses little patience for idiocy but holds practical skill and intelligence in high regard, making him approachable regardless of gender, ethnicity or species.

Shadow met Dave Stint looking for a mechanic willing to modify an automobile for personal use, a request most refused out of prejudice. Surprised when Dave accepted the request straight off the bat, he'd agreed to stay for a drink presuming he meant coffee. Half a bottle of hooch later, the elder spoke so candidly with his Chaotic guest about how the Great War had ruined his perception of humanity, Shadow had assumed him drunk. 

_ "I've seen humans tear each other apart like animals. We ain't no more than beasts in clothes, boy." _

Having phased out, Shadow is jolted from his inflections by the sudden cease of the engine. He gazes out the windscreen at The Shop, uncertain how they got there with his lack of directions, but the question dies on his lips when a glance to his mentee reveals glazes emeralds and knuckles white on the wheel. Thinking better of it, the detective instead reaches into his coat and extracts his refreshed hip flash.

While he doesn't know for sure why Sonic has mellowed his usual exuberance, he can guess. Hell, if he's honest the ebon has been conflicted about having  _ transactions _ with Infinite since they began, but seventeen years later he doesn't regret the decision. Their intense interactions and the sheer release they provide have kept him sane over the years, so much so Shadow sought the relief on many occasions in the years that followed.

Irritatingly, the gangster seemed to take great pleasure in making him feel pathetic, though Shadow can't blame him for it; he's supposed to be a representation of law and order, an upstanding member of Chaotic society, yet there he was bending over a desk in the Squad's ratty hideout. Basically begging to be fucked senseless by the most notorious crime lord in the city.

Something about the jackal makes him happy in ways he can't describe, and that is perhaps the worst part of the whole situation. It's a cheap mimicry of the familial love he felt with Gerald and Maria, fuelled by the burning intensity of sexual gratification. It'd be far easier if it were just sex because he could blame biological needs, as bending like a skirt was embarrassing but forgivable in male Chaotics if relieved tension. Problem being, he enjoyed being fucked into the desk and his company alike, the implications of which are very problematic.

_ Homosexuality is illegal. _

Any Human at the precinct finding out could be the end of his career, but he's hesitant to break off such a long standing arrangement when it makes him feel alive again. His heart had shrivelled after Maria died, his sister and best friend gone in an instant. Anger became his new default until Infinite took his virginity and it shifted something in his brain; life is a gift his family wouldn't want discarded so carelessly. Even if he only lived long enough to solve the case, the jackal could get him there through sin, so long as Sonic could keep his nose out of his affairs.

While Sonic's focus can only benefit the cold case, the incessant questions about his private life are becoming a concern. Most affiliations he maintains outside of work and  _ Rouge's  _ could be considered misconduct, as almost all of them are associated with the Squad. As could the two dozen unsolved deaths of competitors for territory he's swept to the bottom of the pile over the years.

_ I'll have to find a way to manage his curiosity, for I would sin a thousand times over to see justice done. _

"So we were thinking of the same place, huh?" Shadow blinks and glances to his junior. He's still staring at The Shop, the colour returning to his fingers as they flex on the worn leather cover. In contrast, the detective feels on edge again; he likes the kid, but his own agenda is far more important than a single person's job and that has Shadow reaching for a cigarette out of habit, lighting up to calm his nerves before grabbing the door handle, but pauses when Sonic adds. "Uh... you know they keep gas here, right? I'd finish that before you get out the car."

" _ I'm aware, _ " he snaps and immediately regrets it when their eyes meet. Seeing the uncertainty in Sonic's eyes, he huffs out a breath before taking a long drag on the fresh gasper. "Yes, this is the place I wanted. I know both Dave Stint as well as his apprentice. Miles is responsible for maintaining Nicole, keeping her Chaotic adaptations working and brainstorming innovations to make future adaptations cheaper to maintain."

"Don't call him that. It's  _ Tails _ ." 

Shadow's frown immediately sours and he points his burning white stick emphatically at the azure. "I swear to God, if I find out you're giving that kit any trouble regarding his deformity, I'll kick you into next week so fucking hard your  _ mother _ will feel it. Got it?"

Shadow inhales another third of his gasper in the silence that follows, careful not to even twitch when the junior responds in raised tones while reaching blindly for the door handle. "Excuse me? You're the one calling him Miles. It's _Tails._ H _e_ chose that name himself, and I don't doubt he told you, but with your head always _so far up your own_ _ass_ _you probably couldn't hear him."_

He gets out and slams the door, striding a few feet only to freeze, pivot and stride back. Sonic yanks it open once more and leans inside, meeting confused crimsons with hard emeralds as he grabs the keys from the ignition. "And my Ma's dead, asshole. You bring her up again, I'll show you how hard a kid raised in Old Lower can swing."

Slamming the door once again he stalks away, shoving balled-up fists into overcoat pockets after aggressively adjusting the fedora perched between his ears. Shadow is frozen, startled by the absurdity of his well-mannered partner's outburst as regret cements him heavily in his seat. He watches the younger hedgehog hold his hat in place and duck beneath the cracked garage door, only seeming to crash back to reality once he's out of sight.

_ Have I been alone so long, I've forgotten how to be civil? _

Nicole answers with the rhythmic clicking of her engine cooling. No epiphany, no sudden comprehension of how he could have handled it better, but the nickname 'Tails' just sounds so offensive he can't imagine it being used in a friendly fashion, let alone chosen by the kit himself. He takes a long drag, only to swear when it burns his fingers and stubs it out with more force than necessary.

He doesn't want to get out of the car, doesn't want to face yet  _ another  _ of the mistakes his life seems to be full of. Forcing legs weighed by emotion to hold his weight, he exits the car and walks the forecourt sluggishly, splaying a hand on his own brimmed hat as he ducks beneath the metal door. Shadow has to stop and adjust to the dimness of a dozen lanterns scattered around the workshop before he can locate either mechanic.

With Dave conspicuously absent, the fox is alone in the garage besides his guests. The majority of his fawn pelt and white chest protected by oversized coveralls, the exposed fur of a shoulder where it hangs from his small frame and uncovered two tails are partially matted with spots of oil. He either isn't bothered or hasn't noticed though, enthralled in a complex and intricate handshake with the azure so fast, the detective struggles to follow it until suddenly its over, Miles spinning a wrench with unnecessary dexterity before slipping it into his belt. "It's great to see you, Sonic! But I thought you had work today. Did you get off early or something?"

Sonic chuckles softly. "Nah. I doubt I'll ever get off early under DCI Shadow. We never seem to sit still. Speaking of." He pauses and looks to his mentor, all the energy he offered the young fox replaced with a tired stare. "Shads here says he knows you. That right, little bro?"

Turning to follow his gaze, the vulpine smiles and raises a hand in greeting. Shadow mirrors him for politeness as he speaks. "Hey, Detective. Has it been a year already? How's she been running since I last tuned her up?"

"It's not the car," Sonic interjects, holding crimson orbs in a stare for an extended moment before he turns back to the kit with a warm smile. "His apartment lock is busted and he lives in the heart of Old Lower. Leaving it broke is asking to get robbed, murdered,  _ assaulted _ … You got an opening anytime soon to come replace it, kiddo?"

A sinking sensation drags his stomach into his shoes at the azure's tone, but Shadow doesn't get time to reflect before Miles hums with uncertainty, scratching behind his ear with a claw. "Well… I'm sorta booked out for a few weeks, with winter over and a ton of cars needing repairs, but I can swing by before work. It'll be early in the day, between five and six. Is that okay, detective?"

"Fine," the ebon responds shortly, already reaching into his coat for another swig of whiskey. "Though Nicole is due her service. Dave owes me a tune-up on the house, so whenever is convenient so long as it isn't a day I need her for work. Send the details to the precinct."

Sonic raises a brow. "You already know where he lives?"

"Sure do! Dave and I updated the plumbing for his block a few years back. Grumpy old human, but he paid well." The vulpine pulls a small notebook from his toolbelt and scribbles a note with a pencil pulled from behind an ear, ending with the flourish of an educated Chaotic. "And I've got it down, Detective. Might even be this weekend, since the boss hates owing favours and stuff. I'll get the details to you by Friday, okay?"

A bob of ebon quills and Miles pivots back to the azure, a smile on his face and a slight bob in his stance. "So tell me how the job's going? It's so cool you're working with the city's first ever Chaotic detective right away! He's a sociopolitical idol! How's it feel to work with your role-"

" _ Tails _ ," the azure interrupts abruptly, daring a side-long glance at his mentor Shadow takes to mean he should go. He makes a quick exit and returns to his car without fanfare, allowing Sonic to talk with his friend privately if only because the detective doesn't want to hear what the junior thinks of him right now. A swig of his flask and another gasper lit, he focuses on the stale smoke taste and heat billowing out his nose insead of the sickening regret turning his stomach.

When he returns, Sonic gets into the car silently, slipping the keys into the ignition but not starting her up as he chews his lip. His eyes remain locked on The Shop with intense concentration and the resulting tension feels suffocating. Slowly being eaten alive by guilt, Shadow sighs and talks. "I was introduced to Miles seven years ago, a kid working doorsteps to drum up odd jobs for pocket change. He was in the bad part of Lower West and drawing attention by being different; if the tails weren't enough, being able to fix radios when barely out of muslin diapers certainly was."

He doesn't look directly at the younger hedgehog, but Shadow sees his head turn out of the corner of an eye and continues. "He'd been beaten up a few times and was at risk of abduction walking the streets alone. The Squad wouldn't take him because he's too conspicuous. And with a family at home, it wouldn't be viable anyway. Dave needed an apprentice. I pulled in a favour, got the kid some stability. He never told me he hated his name."

Taking a breath, Sonic releases the keys and leans back, hands falling to his lap. "I'm sorry for getting angry, and using the mention of Ma to feed it. I never met her but I still miss her, you know? I wish I could've told her I love her just once. Chuck-" He falters. Shadow looks over to see the azure wipe an eye with the back of a hand. "Unc says that's how much she loved me. She gave me life and died naming me after her father-in-law, the name I  _ never  _ use because it's an Owned name and I-"

A shaky inhale and he tilts his head to the side, a weak smile on his muzzle and tears welling in emerald eyes. "Just… thanks, Shads. For looking out for Tails before we met. I hope we can be friends and not just partners. It would be nice to trust each other enough to talk about things like this. Sharing the ton of stuff locked up in your head'll make life a little easier to live, right?"

_ Some secrets are just too damaging to share, hedgehog. _

"Perhaps," Shadow concedes vaguely, reaching into his coat for the hip flask. He offers Sonic a hit and shrugs when the azure silently refuses, taking a long drink of his own before he continues while replacing the cap. "But first, we have a case to solve, a suspect to interrogate


	10. Direct Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both hedgehogs get a little more than originally bargained for when they go their separate ways in the Den.

**CHAPTER TEN: DIRECT CONFRONTATION**

Shadow doesn't bother to announce his arrival to the Squad, hanging his coat and hat at the entrance as he orders Sonic to be civil with the boys. Added to the house about a decade ago, a lean-to made of corrugated iron sheet houses the holding room. It's a room he's not willing to subject the azure to yet, especially after realising how uncomfortable he is around the Squad already. 

The Hold would only add more stress to the pile.

Detective Shadow has been inside frequently since first being picked up by the Squad, and is where all street acquisitions spend their first night. In both Dens the Hold has been uninviting; concrete floors stained with a year's worth of wine-red spills not of alcoholic origin, subject to freezing winters and the scorch of summer sun thanks to its metal exterior, a scent of faeces, urine and vomit ever present no matter how hard the room is scrubbed with bleach. 

He's never been locked inside himself, avoiding it back at the old hideout thanks to Infinite wanting to keep him willingly pliant. At least half the Squad spent their first night in there, a handful of them having spent more for disrespect or breaking their boss' rules of conduct, but usually it's reserved for enemies or disobedient dealers that foolishly tried to dodge a payroll and got brought in for softening.

"Shouldn't I be with you?" The query interrupting his train of thought, Shadow snorts at the junior's question and resumes moving his flask and smokes to his pants before shrugging off his jacket. "Not that I think you need help, but I'm supposed to be learning this interview and interrogation stuff from you. Plus, I'm _really_ bad at poker. Can't bluff to save my life. They'll eat me alive, Shads."

He responds with a humoured exhale but once free of his blazer, Shadow pauses to light a gasper. Sonic uses the silence to persist in a quiet tone. "Look I know… What I mean is, I want to learn. So maybe if you teach me everything fast, I can work _with_ you rather than as your responsibility. I know I'm under your feet a lot right now but I can do this. I'm sure of it. Give me the chance to learn. Please?"

Cigarette lit, Shadow flips his zippo shut and tucks it into a waistcoat pocket. He meets the hedgehog's determined emeralds as he takes a drag, speaking only once he's cleared his lungs of smoke. "I intend to, but I don't make a habit of doing interrogations in the Squad's backyard. You'll be expected not just to observe but participate in any _official_ interviews conducted at the station. This one, however, is off record."

"Off record as in… unsanctioned?"

"Undisclosed," the ebon corrects evenly. His irises glisten like flames when he sucks in another toke, this time exhaling the smoke with words. "He's an addict, no more than a pawn for others to move. Not high priority for our books, but certainly for the Squad after killing a pup. Be grateful we've been given an opportunity to interrogate his sorry ass before Infinite dealt with him."

The shift in demeanour is palpable, but unable to tell if Sonic is offering concern or pity while wanting neither from the younger hedgehog, the ebon waves him off before he can comment. "Sit in on a hand or two, learn a few tips on bluffing from the boys. I'll inform you when I'm ready to leave."

Sonic visibly hesitates, perhaps about to speak but thinks better of it before he turns away. The single glance over his shoulder before he slips out of view is uncertain, but for Shadow, it dissolves the last inhibitions surrounding a dilemma. It's realising the azure isn't out to destroy his image or reputation, nor is he set to gain anything beyond a profession or personal achievement, he's just being friendly.

_He doesn't simply deserve to be told, but I want to._

_I want to trust someone again, like I did Maria._

_To have a… friend?_

Scoffing at his own sentiment, Shadow shakes his head and trudges off for the shanty lean-to, fishing in a pocket for his key to the Hold. A token of trust from Infinite when he made DCI that he hasn't left at home since, though honestly he's rarely needed it. Detainees have been watched around the clock with the table removed, ever since a lead on a Chaotic fighting ring case slit his throat on a corner, his death favourable over facing the Blue-Eyed Reaper's wrath.

Heading through an unlocked outer door, he passes a side area cordoned off for the gang's tin bath and steps into the storage area beyond, ignoring the racks of non-perishables as he finally grasps his target and draws it from his waistcoat. Smoldering cigarette held by thin lips, Shadow inserts the still pristine key in the door and turns it, pushing inside without pause once the lock clicks open. 

Despite how many times he's entered the confined, poorly insulated space in the past, Shadow pauses to press the back of a hand to his nose. The stink of life under duress - of piss and shit and vomit baked into layers of fresh cement floor - is so potent, his eyes water as the ebon fights back a gag reflex. 

It's a necessity that doesn't bother him, but the old jackal that stands to attention only to grunt and sit back down, the gangster's right hand, does.

"Gray," he addresses the old jackal behind his hand tersely. The gangster doesn't return his gaze or his manners. Instead, he sits and folds his arms across his broad chest, amber irises narrowed at the shuddering pile of fur pressed into the furthest corner. With a _tisk_ of irritation, Shadow slams the door with a heel and takes the gasper from his lips. "Babysitting is a pup chore. Did you piss the boss off?"

Most of the Squad have roots in the illegal Chaotic fighting rings he works with the gang boss to shut down, but Gray isn't another reject left to starve on the street. Every pup in the circuit a decade before knew him as 'Ghost', named for his light steps and prematurely greying fur alike. He was a legend, a rare retiree of the circuit rather than leaving in a dumpster. Now he's Infinite's most talented recruit, and he hasn't let age dull his capability; the elder is still a force to be reckoned with, even in his fifties.

Yet regardless of the gang leader's trust in him, he and Shadow have never been amicable. From day one, the ebon found his handling to be callous and unnecessarily violent. It took just days to realise the heavy-handed treatment was personal; he would barely clip a pup around the ear but didn't hesitate to clout Shadow for the smallest misdemeanours, of which the hedgehog's defiance caused many but now, he does it just to test Gray's patience.

_His Boss offered leniency I didn't then understand. I assumed he wanted the requested information, but now it seems there were different motives..._

"I'm on off-watch, jackass." The elder's deep tones draw Shadow back from his thoughts as Gray leans back in an uncomfortable metal chair. A twinge of pain briefly twists his muzzle as he adjusts his back and he glances sidelong at the hedgehog only to look away moments later, folding his calf across the opposite thigh. "Boss don't want him checkin' out before he's got what's comin' t'him, though he'd be six foot under already if it were my call."

The bundle of white and auburn starts whimpering, fearful shakes fluffing any fur not yet marred with an array of body fluids. Annoyed the elderly canid has made the suspect even less likely to cooperate, Shadow growls out a lungful of smoke. "Good thing it isn't your call then, isn't it? I've an investigation to run and Infinite gave me an interview, so do us both a favour and go find a loaded pistol to suck."

"Ain't that your job, Ladyboy?" 

Shadow's reaction is instinctive, the curl of tan lips and bristling of fur, quills puffing out his lean frame as low warning rumbles slip from his throat. But his target laughs, a sneer creeping across his muzzle as he stands and adjusts his tie. "Don't pick fights you can't win, Toothpick. You know I won't go easy just 'cause the Boss likes stuffin' yer ass."

His lips curl enough to flash short canines, growl becoming an aggressive snarl as Shadow flexes long fingers. "What's the matter? Hate seeing your boss weak for a vice besides your God-awful hooch? Or jealousy it's not your backside he fills every-"

Before he can process it, Shadow is shoved against the metal wall beside the door, grunting in pain as every abused muscle and sore spot of flesh sings in complaint. Gray is on him in a moment, 'Ghost' still alive in his reflexes and near-silent steps. The ebon's chest tightens very slightly, the knowledge he wouldn't dare injure his boss' favourite lay barely enough to stay the rising panic as dark claws dig painfully into Shadow's neck.

The elder tightens his grip, just enough to make it hard to breathe as he gets so close to his face, the detective can taste stale hooch. Shadow grabs his wrist and presses a palm to the jackal's chest, but neither lessens the pressure on his throat as Gray steals his cigarette. With a casual air, he takes a deep toke and blows the smoke directly into the ebon's face. "The Boss ignores yer shitty attitude, but I ain't gonna no more, Boy. Sass me again, an' I'll knock some sense into tha' thick skull o'yours, Infinite's rules be damned."

Gray doesn't wait for affirmation, releasing his prey with a last slam against the metal for emphasis, the reverberations of which have the captive keening in self-pity. Unmoved, he holds the ebon's gaze and yanks the door open, inhaling another lungful of the stolen gasper before he drops it half-smoked to the floor. "An' be quick, cause I ain't in th'mood to entertain yer idiocy. Lucky fer you, I need a piss an' a cup o'Joe. You'd best be gone when I get back."

An italian loafer squashes the smouldering stick for emphasis, searing a dark mark into the concrete as embers extinguish and unsmoked tobacco spills out before Gray leaves with a slam of the metal door, the click of the lock automatically engaging reverberating off the corrugated interior walls. Crimson irises linger on the smoking remnants of the cigarette not only in sentiment for wasted vices, but tired resignation.

 _Gray could easily reduce me to a similar state_. 

Trying not to ruminate on his physical shortcomings and needing an outlet for the building irritation in his muscles, Shadow stamps the smouldering cig to ashes and turns on his whimpering target. The ball of fur hasn't moved from the far corner, bony knees drawn to a torso hidden behind a tail so fluffy, it's larger than the Chaotic himself, whose shuddering muscles allude to the creature's fearful state.

The detective couldn't care less for his distress, the sickening confidence rising in his abdomen as mere steps closer make the red panda whimper, fuelling a renewed sense of anger that simmers in each and every word. "Get up."

Somehow managing to curl up tighter, the mammal whines so pathetically Shadow almost feels sorry for him. _Almost_ . "I said-" He grabs an ear, pulls the tweaker to his feet and drags him out of the corner, roughly tossing his emaciated frame into the centre of the room with a threatening snarl. " _Get the fuck up_ , turdsack."

As he unravels, the red panda has obvious signs the Squad have already vented their frustrations; his shirt is torn and bloodied, waistcoat hanging by a single button and his face a myriad of swelling bruises, split skin and bloodied flesh all over where clumps of fur have been ripped clear of their roots. 

The Chaotic tweaker stumbles on unsteady legs, slams into the opposite wall and immediately rolls back to face Shadow, palms raised to shield his face as he slides down the metal sheet. "P-Please, I gave the last guy names an' where to find 'em! There ain't no more! It were just us three an' some morphine, I s-swear on me life! _Please-._ "

By the time he hits the floor he's sobbing, his tail curled protectively around his battered frame, the scent of fear so strong it's nauseating. If Gray hadn't just pissed him off, Shadow might have been more compassionate, but in this instance he's the opposite; the detective grabs hold of the small Chaotic's shirt collar, hauls him off the ground and pins him to the wall with a sing of denting metal.

Shadow holds him eye level, ignoring the desperate kicks of dangling legs and hands groping at his fist. "I'm not in the mood for mercy, so let's keep this as fast and painless as possible, agreed?" He waits for the panicked nod and squeaks of fear before he continues. "They wanted accomplices, but I want your employers. Who hired you to kill the runner?"

"I-I don't-" The ebon twists his wrist, tightening the frayed fabric around his captive's throat who thrashes in fear, clawing his hand and feet scrabbling for purchase on the metal behind with a useless scrape of filed claws. " _I d-don't know his name_ . I swear, Oh Chaos I _swear to yer I ain't lyin'_ . I'd seen 'im about, stealin' car parts up in Lower East, but we never spoke before. _Please-_ "

"A description will suffice," Shadow growls through grit teeth, not lessening his grip. The red panda continues to scrabble and writhe in protest until he twists his wrist even further, cutting off the smaller Chaotic's whimpered pleas. "The longer you take to answer, the tighter it gets, and I won't be so _patient_ if you make me wait."

"A badger," the frail mammal exclaims, clipped claws dragging uselessly across the hand at his throat. "Some guy gave us a free hit and said the pup had more. That he didn't want none, but if we killed the kid we could keep everythin' he's carryin'. I-It weren't personal. Just b-business, you get me? Just d-drugs. You'll talk with these guys and get me outta here. R-Right?"

Shadow frowns at the question, not considering an admittance but because he's aware of the man in question. Hans the Badger, an asylum immigrant of war who never managed to fully assimilate due to his accent and one of Infinite's casual clients. The SSPD had booked him on numerous charges of automobile theft and tampering before, but he's always slipped through their fingers at the last hurdle, vindicated by lost evidence or apparent bad procedure the ebon would be blamed for.

_He's an addict with sticky fingers_

_Why target your supplier's pup for a hit?_

The obvious answer is a competitor is involved, an even more obvious assumption that it's Nack. But he's got no evidence just yet, only the testimony of an unreliable witness, only an excuse to haul Hans in for questioning. This could be a viable lead, the break they've been searching for, only it will have to wait for tomorrow; Towers won't appreciate having to book a fresh body, or the need to pay the unwarranted overtime required to grill a suspect hot off the streets before they clam up.

Doubting the tweaker knows more, Shadow drops him to the floor, still frowning at the wall he'd been pressed against as he fishes in his pockets for his flask. He sips in silence, letting the liquor focus his mind as the information comes together; someone paid Hans to keep their involvement concealed, but he'd subcontracted the hit. With so many priors it's the smartest move, or would be if he'd chosen his hitmen wisely.

His interrogation over, the detective turns to leave without another word, steps dulled by concrete to empty thuds until he reaches the door, whereupon he replaces the flask and retrieves his key. It slips into the lock smoothly, but the turn of tumblers injects panic into the captive's tone. "No, w-wait! You're gonna talk to these guys and get me o-outta here, ain't yer? I told you _everything_ I know!"

Shadow pulls the door open and steps out, pausing to capture lavender irises with disinterested rubies. "You already dug your grave. Now gather what remains of your tattered integrity and _lie in it_."

\--

There isn't much time to ruminate on his mentor's words before Sonic steps out of the kitchen, right into the Squad's communal area. A general ruckus of laughter and noise quickly lowers to silence as all eyes lock on the azure and beneath a dozen pairs of piercing amber, his fur prickles with unease.

"The fuck're you doin' here, plod." Not a query but a demand from the eldest at the table, a middle aged dingo with faded sandy fur. He places a hand of cards face-down on the dining table, drawing on his cigarette before asking: "Get lost on yer way up th'Commissioner's ass?"

The table bursts into hollers and shrieks of humour, the closest jackal patting the dingo heavily on the back in affirmation as Sonic folds his ears back. He doesn't intend to look offended, but his body runs on instinct, fluffing fur and raising quills with afront that only seems to make them laugh harder as he speaks in terse tones. "I'm here with DCI Shadow-"

"You gotta get in line for tha' ass, Pup."

More laughter, even louder than before, a thin and almost emaciated member doubling over onto the table in uncontrollable fits of giggles to bang a fist on the faded veneer. A slew of emotions burn the lining of Sonic's gut, most of which he can't name, but it's determination that breaks free of the rest and forces its way up his throat. 

"I need to see Infinite," the junior responds in the calmest tone he can muster, hands balling nervously at his sides as fury masks an outrageous lie. "Shadow is busy with the tweaker you pulled in, so he asked me to talk to your Boss about taking him into custody. Is he in his office?"

The dingo wipes a tear from an eye. "He is, but you ain't seein' him, Blue Boy. He's far too busy fer little shits like you. If his detective wants a chat, he can come by 'imself, not send his upstart Pup."

Sonic's eye twitches a moment before he explodes. 

" _I'm a Junior Detective at the SSPD investigating the murder of one of your own. If I want to speak to your Boss, I don't need a damn chaperone._ " Taking advantage of the stunned silence, he stomps across the room and wrenches the office door open, pausing only to turn and add _: "And I'm not his pup. Unlike you lot, I don't need a babysitter."_

He steps inside and slams the door, a sudden flash of foresight making him flip the lock just moments before someone tries to wrench it open again. The commotion that ensues is short lived; the old dingo is quick to order a pup to find Gray and his spare key, while another attempts to pick it with his own claws, the room beyond quickly falling into silence as the member working the lock concentrates on his near-impossible task.

The azure breathes a sigh of relief, only to freeze up against the door upon realising who he's locked in the room with. He barely acknowledges the trash and papers littering the floor before wide emeralds snap to the heavy desk in the middle of the room, its occupant already staring back with dichromatic irises that glint in the fading sunlight.

He doesn't launch an attack or even stand though, only a grimace of distaste and a slight shake of the head as he returns to his work. "Get out."

"No." His stomach drops to his shoes when the jackal's hand stills but more irritated than afraid, Sonic swallows down an urge to turn tail and meets mismatched irises with hard jades, ears folding in anger and his fists clench at his sides. "We need to talk about this thing between you and Shadow."

Infinite holds his stare a minute then places his pen down with care, recapturing his gaze while he leans back in his plush chair. The slight quirk of a smile on his muzzle disarming, Sonic falters in his conviction a moment, tensing up only when the jackal speaks with a hint of humour in his tone. "And what exactly do you think _this thing_ is, Junior Detective? Show me your deductive prowess."

"I don't care _what it is_ , it stops." His harsh assertion is met with furrowed brows, but Sonic can't keep it in any longer, words forcing themselves out of his throat before he can comprehend their meaning. "He's bruised and _limping_ and that isn't how things are supposed to be when it's consensual, so whatever twisted thing you _think_ you have with him it ends today, or I-"

"Or you'll _what_ , little Pup?"

The jackal finally stands from his desk as sudden as his interruption, a step around his desk before Sonic has time to realise he's made a mistake. "The detective can't touch me, has far too much at stake to risk my boys running their mouths in retaliation even if he _wanted_ me behind bars."

The azure takes a step back and immediately hits the door. The cold wood sends shudders down his spine as Infinite advances close enough to bite, teeth bare inches from Sonic's face as the junior shivers beneath the hot breath that floods his face. "Here's a hard lesson for you, Junior Detective. The real world isn't fair. It runs on lies and corruption, shady deals in dark alleys and enough liquor to kill even hardened alcoholics."

Too afraid to feel embarrassed as he flinches away from the flash of fangs, Sonic feels his heart race as hot breath skims his exposed throat. "You're in over your head. I'd suggest keeping your nose out of our business. Bother me again, and you'll end up another statistic in the detective's folder. Got it, little pup?"

There's no time to reply before the door he's rested on is flung open, the sudden loss of support making Sonic fall to his back with a grunt. Hands grab his arms and shoulders and hoist him back to his feet, but the azure doesn't struggle. Instead, he meets the gang boss' gaze with uncharacteristic defiance fueled by hatred as he's hauled away, only trying to regain his feet once the door closes with a soft click. 

"Alright, _alright_ , I get it! I'll leave!" 

The gang members holding him don't obey, hands pulling him away from the office door until a shrill whistle freezes them in place. Not a second passes and four hands have been replaced with one on the back of his collar and Sonic can't suppress a shout of surprise as he's lifted clear off his feet. Half-choked by shirt and tie as he's carried into the hall he gasps for air once deposited on all fours in the foyer.

"Jus' what we need, another nosey copper." Sonic forces himself to his feet, refusing to let his shaking knees keep him prone in the presence of another gangster. He's not entirely surprised to meet amber irises framed with greyed fur, though the gnarled flesh of the jackal's ears still send nausea down his spine. "You'd do good to keep t'the Detective's heel next time. The Boss ain't always so merciful."

"Is that what happened to you?" The question gets past the junior's lips before he thinks better of it, but the scowl he receives in return encourages the young hedgehog's currently scornful tongue. "Did you rub him the wrong way and get burned? Does he take everything out on you instead, when Shads isn't here to take the brunt? Force himself on-"

Sonic chokes on his words as the elder fists his shirt and draws him up the six inches to face height, not struggling to hold him there as the junior grabs his wrist and folds his ears back. "My ears been docked since I were six, and not by a Chaotic. So watch yer mouth, Boy; suggest somethin' like tha' again, I'll gladly beat the stupid out of yer."

"Put my junior down, Gray." The elder jackal tisks but does as requested, both glancing over to watch Shadow approach with a deep scowl on his face. 

His mentor's disappointment far more potent than any fear the Squad can instil, the azure tucks back his ears and flattens his quills beneath those sharp crimsons. He's even relieved when Gray drags his attention away. "Yer junior barged in on th'Boss' an' locked the boys out. Keep him on a shorter leash an' I won't need t'discipline 'im. Will I, Detective?"

Shadow doesn't respond immediately, looking back to the azure as he spins the youngster around and pushes him towards the door. Only once they both have their coats and hats does the detective finally round on the larger jackal with a scowl. "He's mine to discipline, not your pup. Touch him again, I'll rip your vocal chords out to string a lute."

Gray's hearty laugh follows them down the path to the street, echoing louder in his head than Shadow berating him for being reckless as they get into the car. Sonic glances back towards the hideout with a lump in his throat, still unable to hear his mentor over the elderly jackal's chuckled words, and can't shake the feeling he's just made everything worse 

_"I'd love t'see you try, toothpick."_

* * *

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	11. Reluctant Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an uncomfortable conversation that needed to happen. Good thing Shadow has vices to fall back on.

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: RELUCTANT CONFESSIONS**

Just as Sonic feared, writing reports was the most tedious thing. As the detective had been the only one to interrogate their suspect, he needed to file that report, which leaves Sonic to document their visit with Professor Schlemmer. It isn't the easiest of reports either; with the mortician's observations to reference and an autopsy to dissect and regurgitate into his own words. It takes the azure far longer to finish up than Shadow, but it's an important skill to learn made easier by their reluctance to converse.

A few hours pass. Shadow covers his first draft with corrections, annotations and the odd suggestion to consider if adding or omitting details could improve his report. On the second, there are far less notes to contend with. Sonic gets it redrafted in the time it takes the detective to fetch and finish a coffee. He hands his third attempt over expecting the ebon to rip it apart once more but Shadow doesn't even look at it, slipping it into a cardboard sleeve with the autopsy and interrogation notes before setting the file aside with utmost care.

He looks distant, ruby irises glazed over and a slight frown on his muzzle, fingers splayed on the folder cover as if afraid it might float away. He looks not at his junior but through him, seeming to stare at the wall peppered with the framed newspaper clips beyond his head as he speaks. "Forgive me for not confiding in you sooner. My past is… unusual, and I fear compromising all I've worked for through false trust in a new acquaintance."

Throat suddenly thick with nerves, Sonic struggles to swallow as Shadow pauses to light a fresh gasper with shaking hands. Seeing his mentor unsettled is disconcerting. Watching him force down anxiety to set words free is too painful to endure, so he asks: "Your family died in weird circumstances and you couldn't go home. I'm guessing you lived rough for a while. Were you a Squad member, too?"

"Unwillingly conscripted," Shadow reponds calmly, far too calmly for Sonic's liking, and takes a drag of courage before elaborating. "I was from the Upper Westside district, a district Infinite was determined to take before Nack got his claws into it. While I'd been predominantly housebound, I knew the area, the Chaotic stores and market stalls that would pay a protection racket. He wanted knowledge, so I was forced to accept an offer of bed and board for it."

"You're not helping me like him more, Shads."

The detective snorts some smoke from flared nostrils. "I don't care, to be honest." Crimson irises leave the wall as he taps ash into his empty mug, catching Sonic's gaze as he does so. "I was starving and had no shelter, recently lost my dumpster to an armed bum. If he'd not conscripted me, I'd have refused on principle, and been a body for the SSPD to scrape off the asphalt in days. I owe that bastard my life."

"That doesn't mean you're an asset for the rest of it, though." Sonic leans closer, elbow on the desk to hold his chin and features twisted with concern. "Listen, I know you've a lot on the line here - their case, your job - but if he's forcing you to do things you're not comfortable with-"

"It isn't so simple," the ebon interrupts, and lowers his cigarette to tap more ash into the mug. A pause preludes an oversimplified explanation wrought by uncertainty. "What you walked in on this morning was… an intentional redirection of stress. I see how it could be misconstrued as something else without adequate information but I'm not a coward, nor his bitch. If he'd raped me, I'd have shot him dead."

Sonic swallows hard, eyes flickering to the pistol at his belt before he straightens, forearm falling to the desk. "Okay. That's great to hear, I guess. But still… why him, Shads? As part of the Squad, you'd know better than anyone what he's capable of. Why did you choose-"

"I didn't  _ choose _ anything, hedgehog." He takes the last drag of the cigarette and drops it into the mug, adding to the smoke that billows out with a plume from thin tan lips. "I didn't wake up one day, decide that a good dicking was required and seek out the worst lay I could find. I'm not a fucking  _ fairy _ ; don't lose your shit on me."

"You think I care you're gay?" Shadow tenses with a snarl and Sonic immediately reels back, both palms raised defensively as words slip out on their own. "I d-didn't mean you  _ are  _ gay, its just a thing that gay people do. That doesn't  _ make it gay _ . I mean, some girls like that sort of thing, or at least I've heard-"

" _ Get to the point, _ " the ebon snarls. 

_ " _ R-Right." The azure takes a steadying breath, but it does nothing besides fuel his panic as peach hands pick nervously at the threads of his pants. "What I mean is, I don't care you're gay -  _ not gay _ \- I just… it worries me who you're indulging in that stuff with. Not to say he isn't a good person under the… crime syndicate, but you came out  _ limping _ and covered in bruises, Shads. It gets a guy worried, you know?"

He doesn't know; Sonic can see confusion etched in the lines on his face, empty hands flexing, wishing for a distraction from the emotions he's presented with. Then his gaze softens as a palm spreads out on the file, his new focal point. "There's no need to be. We've come to an arrangement over the years, but… it's often still a struggle for me to engage. It may be strange, but physical confrontation _ helps…" _

"Oh." It isn't the response he'd expected. A fight for dominance or whatever between two guys getting frisky would've made sense, but an altercation? No. "Again, not... not saying you shouldn't, but that's kinda the opposite of how a relationship is suppo-"

"It's not a relationship," Shadow interjects as shaky fingers fish in his blazer for a drink. Crimson irises oddly hollow as they rise back to the azure, denial echoing in every word as painful yearning for what he wants - but can't have - that's far too strong for Sonic to ignore. "Its business, a means to an end and nothing more. Don't concern yourself."

_ Chaos, he actually cares for that asshole. _

He hasn't long to reflect on that deduction before Shadow stands, pausing to take a slug from his flask before putting it away, then passes Sonic the file. "We're done for today. Take this to Superintendent Towers and make sure he knows you filled out the report on Schlemmer. I'll wait by the car."

"But if we're done for-"

"Don't be shortsighted, hedgehog." He strides over to the coat rack and retrieves his coat, pulling it on with a flourish before popping the collar. "We may be finished here, but I need a drink. I owe you one for paying for my first last night. Moreover, you have my keys; I can neither drive home nor get inside until they're returned, can I?"

Shadow plucks his hat from the stand and places it on with care, tilting the front ever so slightly down as he glances back. The azure hasn't moved, only a pivot of the torso to give the ebon his attention but seemingly nonchalant. Shadow huffs and turns to leave. "Get moving, Junior. I don't have all night."

But he doesn't move for a few minutes as details of the day click into place, small threads weaving into a tapestry of interlocked fabric so closely knit, they can't separate without destroying it entirely. With a fresh perspective from Shadow, he reviews how the Jackal Squad boss responded to earlier accusations but comes up wanting; Infinite had said nothing of use in their discussion and honestly, he wonders if the aggressive old jackal is capable of affection.

_ I know loving someone who can't return it hurts... _

Feeling a morose mood creeping in, Sonic shakes it off. He pulls on his coat and snags his own fedora, holding it to his chest as the other hand holds the file. Despite it being closing hour, the precinct still bustles; a pair of officers stand together drinking their last coffees, a detective hunched over a desk while a number of corporals chatter about women and the night's plans as they close up files, one taking old updates off the noticeboard to add new ones.

Employed as an errand boy, Sonic had been blind to the inequality, determined instead to make a good impression and get to know his coworkers as he ran messages and made coffee. He hasn't reflected on being just one of three in the entire precinct, he didn't notice the whispers as he walked away. It was a strangely hostile environment masked only by a tentative professionalism. 

Nothing has changed besides his perception of reality; those same smiles mask hostility and his ears catch the subtle mutters of disgruntled humans, making it painfully obvious he was never truly accepted for his skill or attitude, but tolerated by those bound to respect his badge. Sonic weaves through desks with a nod or smile for those who meet his gaze on the way, but now acutely aware of snipped whispers of dissent and harsh stares left on his back until he's into the foyer, where the air finally feels thinner.

"Good evening, Junior Detective. How are things?"

The voice is carefully punctuated, feminine despite an air of formality. Sonic knows who it is before he looks up, meeting the friendly smile of the first and only female to make constable with one of his own. She's tall and thin for a human female, an easy five foot five with no excess weight besides the curves clinging to her hips. "Good to see you, Topaz!" 

With no make-up and light brown hair hacked short, she's no poster girl from the war. Her uniform is loose and tailored for her frame; a pencil skirt to the knees over stockings with a blazer to match, shoes clunky and sensible. She's dedicated, not to mention always been a sweetheart to him, so he can't help but stop to talk. "It's been great! Shadow's... well, he's slowly coming around. I think he's worked solo too long."

Both underdogs of the precinct, they always looked out for each other, had even celebrated quietly in a supply closet when Sonic got a promotion. Still, despite her laugh his joy ebates slightly seeing her on the front desk again. "They put you on bookings again? I thought making Junior Constable meant you'd go on patrol with Smith…"

Topaz sighs. "Me too, but the Superintendent has stopped training constables until the disturbances in Lower Westside calm down. You picked up a body there yesterday, didn't you? Was it bad?"

"Not so bad, but it wasn't an accident." Readjusting the file under his arm, Sonic glances down at it thoughtfully. "I… suppose I shouldn't talk about it too much since it's an active case, but… Well, the detective thinks a rival gang took advantage of a kid running product. Coated in the stuff, but no drugs."

"Well, Shadow certainly knows the Squad..." Heart leaping into his throat, emerald irises snap to the human. She leans forward and rests her elbows on the desk, fingers bridging below her nose while she stares at the wall beyond his head with a frown. "They work his districts; it makes sense he'd know their runners and habits…"

It takes Sonic a moment to realise she isn't aware of his mentor's close relationship with the boss of the Squad, but it's a moment too long. His body has already reacted to a perceived threat; breaths deep and heart racing, quills raised while claws flex. It's the first time he's been uncomfortable beneath her gaze and he struggles to bring himself back from an unwarranted urge to flee when she notices. "Sonic? Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"What? No, I'm fine! Just tired, I guess?" He brings a hand to the back of his head, scratching behind an ear nervously until dropping his hat makes the shifty Chaotic spin and snatch it back up, feet still in motion as he walks backwards through the doors beside her desk. "I gotta go drop this file to Towers, then get to Shadow before he loses his patience, but It was great to see you! I'll put a good word in with the big guy, okay? You'll make detective yet!"

Sonic doesn't wait for a reply, already stumbling up the stairs to the offices above. Palms unexpectedly sweaty he pauses on the landing to wipe them on his pants and to collect his focus, not wanting to approach his senior officer dishevelled. 

He barely gets a second before the towering figure steps from the Commissioner's office, casting long shadows across the narrow walkway. Sonic startles straight with a light inhale of surprise, his heart rate climbing a moment before the familiar barrel chest balanced upon extraordinarily thin legs register. 

Like his employees, the Commissioner dresses in a three piece suit, though his is of tweed and finely woven stitch rather than rough fabric. It strains at his chest and equally rounded stomach, the tails of a white shirt kept below the waist of his pants by a thick brace over each shoulder. He holds a walking cane against the floor in his right hand, an ornately carved, exotic beast handle drowned by oversized pudgy fingers.

'Eggman' isn't his real name but Sonic understands where it came from, given the oval shaped torso. Despite the strange title he's still imposing at over six feet tall, dwarfing Sonic's Chaotic stature. With a poorly disguised swallow the azure acknowledges his boss with an anxious smile. "Uh, sorry if I pulled you away from work, Sir. I was just taking this to-"

"I'll take it," the old human asserts, opening a palm towards the cerulean. When Sonic hesitates, thick brows knit together as his fingers flex impatiently, urging him forward "I haven't all night, hedgehog. Give me the damned file and go home. We've not got any overtime to allocate this quarter."

_ Even if Shadow is mad… I can't really refuse, can I?  _

_ He's Towers' boss, but also our boss. _

Emerald irises flícker to Towers' office for an excuse to follow his mentor's directions but it's already in darkness, the glass exterior shuttered for the night. With no other option and a little hope having the Commissioner see his first reports could benefit his own career, Sonic hands the file over. "Sorry. I mean, Shads told me to hand it to Towers-  _ the Superintendent- _ and tell him the autopsy report is mine, but I guess he's… already gone home?"

"Indeed." The towering human balances his cane in the crook of an elbow and flips the file open in his hand, presumably scrutinising it through his tinted varifocal lenses for the few minutes he's silent. It's only when Sonic shuffles his feet awkwardly he tilts his head back to the azure, lips set in a grim line. "I told you to go home, Junior Detective."

"Oh. Yeah," he chuckles softly and takes a step back onto the metal stairs, raising a hand in farewell. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then, Sir. Good night!"

Eggman grunts in response and the hedgehog turns without pause, taking the steps at a rapid pace to be free of the stifling atmosphere building between him and the Commissioner. Notoriously intolerant of insolence and absurdly strict with Chaotics and Humans alike, it surprises Sonic his short-tempered mentor has managed to keep his job for so long; he doubts Shadow affords the man any more respect than required, suggesting they must disagree often.

His thoughts seize upon reaching the empty foyer. Topaz is gone, likely already headed home for the night. A little bummed he hasn't an opportunity to smooth over the weird behaviour from earlier, the azure leaves with flattened ears and a scuff of his shoe on the threshold, chastising his unwarranted reactions to a simple statement based on details he was told in confidence. 

_ A rookie mistake, jeopardising your boss' career by jumping to conclusions. Gotta see what's  _ **_actually_ ** _ there, not what I think _ **_should_ ** _ be there… _

"What took so damn long?" The familiar gruff tone pulls Sonic from his thoughts, focusing on the ebon leaning against the car with a cigarette pinched in between two claws. Taken off guard, he garbles the start of an explanation about talking to Topaz until Shadow flicks the butt onto the concrete, speaking over him. "It was rhetorical, hedgehog. I don't care. Just get in and dríve to  _ Rouge's. _ I still need a drink."

He hesitates as the detective takes the passenger seat, then slides into the driver's side with unease. Shadow has put another cigarette between his lips but hasn't lit it, likely a placeholder for fidgety hands and a restless mind. Sonic takes a breath and hopes the cig also calms his temper. "Not to argue or nothing, but… when Esp kicked you out, didn't you get barred for a night, too? He won't let us-"

"He'll let you in," the ebon interrupts, taking the gasper from his lips to speak more easily. "If I'm not permitted entry, I want a bottle for tonight. Not his bottom shelf, drain cleaner shit, neither. Something palatable. I've cash, if the chameleon demands it."

Sonic considers refusing, not really wishing to feed his mentor's addiction, but the sudden memory of the detective's overly argumentative demeanour on their first day as partners changes his mind. It's something they can work on later, when the stress of a fresh body isn't plaguing their minds. "Alright. But I'm not arguing if they won't serve me because they know who it's  _ actually _ for. Okay?"

His mentor expels a snort from his nostrils and puts the gasper back in his mouth, effectively ending the conversation as he fishes in a pocket for his zippo. Still, it's a better response than being reprimanded; Sonic takes it gladly and starts the engine, silently thankful it's still warm enough to go immediately.

_ Another strange day is over… _

_ I wonder if it'll always be this eventful…? _

_ \-- _

Nicole turns down the narrow alley at a crawl, her driver obviously out of his comfort zone with such little space to manoeuvre her bulk. He brings her to a stop in front of  _ Rouge's _ without a scratch though - perhaps due to the threat of bodily harm equal to any damage inflicted on the prized possession - and cuts the engine with head turned to the entryway. "Huh. He's new."

Having been focused on finishing a gasper, Shadow now follows his gaze to the steps, at the bottom of which stands a familiar and rather disgruntled ruby echidna. At five foot, he's taller than some humans and almost all Chaotics, a natural facet that boosts effectivity dealing with unruly patrons. Alongside a strength and stubborn will inherent to all echidnas, Knuckles is an excellent bouncer; he's never lost to a drunkard or those picking a fight and despite his thick skull, doesn't tolerate harassment of any kind towards Rouge, Espio or himself.

Unlike his employers and most other Free Chaotics, he doesn't pander to Human expectation. He's bare furred, a crescent of pure white amongst the bright red of his pelt proudly displayed, his only attire the gloves that shield bony protrusions on his knuckles and large, likely custom-made shoes. He stands tall, confidently eyeing the familiar car with a smirk of poorly veiled enjoyment, likely imagining throwing the detective's bony ass to the curb.

Shadow's been on the receiving end of his superior strength many times, mostly responding to a drunk refusal to leave at closing time. It's been years since the brute has ejected him by the collar though, not since Espio agreed to let him sleep his intoxication off in his stool to save money. No more broken furniture or constantly needing Knuckles on hand.

Sending the ruby echidna a scowl, Shadow tisks in irritation and flicks the cigarette stub out a window. "No, he's the bouncer; Knuckles. Though he usually works weekends to handle rowdy clientele. Seems the chameleon is taking a ban seriously, for once."

"Is this a common occurrence, or-?" The detective's side-eyed glare is equal parts tired and hilarious, as is a roll of his eyes when Sonic bursts into laughter. " _ You're _ the rowdy clientele. Oh  _ Chaos _ that's funny, but also makes sense with how fast Rouge reacted. How many times has he-"

_ "Drop it and go get my booze, Sonic." _

The statement is dripping with unspoken threat not lost on the observant hedgehog. Laughter cut short, Sonic gets out of the car, stumbling when his shoe gets caught in the footwell. He barely keeps from landing face-first on the concrete by catching hold of the door, eliciting a grunt of discomfort as the momentum wrenches his shoulder.

"I think you've had enough already, junior." With a mocking tone and humour in each word, Knuckles looks on with his arms folded. Yet his lips thinly set, not a shadow of that amusement reaching his face as Sonic hops a step to free his leg and straightens. "Take your old boozer and beat it. You're barred."

The azure sizes the giant up in awe, not stupid enough to physically challenged a Chaotic so large, but a smile soon cracks peach lips as Sonic fixes his skewed hat. "Knuckles, right?" The echidna hums an affirmation, which the smaller male bounces off to continue his introduction. "I'm Sonic. It's great to meet you, Red! Funnily enough though, you're sort of right; I'm DCI Shadow's new junior detective."

"Rouge told me," he states blandly, brow furrowed as he glances into the car. Shadow glares back with contempt before he turns away and folds scrawny arms across his chest. With a grunt, hard violet irises track back to emeralds. "But she won't have his temper tonight. I ain't gonna let his minion in to butter her up, neither. So do us a favour and get lost, before I have to get rough with ya."

Not expecting the hostility, Sonic's ears fold before they perk back up with an idea, leaning in slightly to whisper. "Between you and me? He's a bit of an ass, but he's my boss. The only one I need to butter up. All I want is to buy a bottle. The good stuff. I'm sure you get me, though? A happy boss means a smoother shift. Don't you think, Knux?"

He looks thoughtful, likely remembering things he's done or wishes he'd thought of before, then steps aside. "You've got five minutes," he states flatly, though his features are less severe as his arms fall from his chest. "Any longer, I'll throw you out by the collar, whether y'done or not. Got it?"

"They don't call me Sonic for nothing," Sonic chirps in response, already halfway up the stairs when he asserts over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a jiff, and thanks, Rad Red! You're a real pal!"

Knuckles' growl is strangely playful. "I'm not yer pal smartass, now shut yer yap and move those feet!"

The azure chuckles as he heads in, leaving Shadow to watch their exchange in confusion from the car. Usually aggressively stubborn, the echidna now slowly shaking his head like Sonic told a bad pun as he returns to his original position is so peculiar, it's almost suspicious. Until he resumes glaring at the detective's car, a sure sign he's still in his right mind while the seconds crawl by.

_ Tsk, you punch a guy one time… _

True to his word, Sonic is out in less than a minute, clapping Knuckles on the shoulder and giving him a smile as he takes the steps two at a time. In his left, he clutches the neck of a bottle easily identifiable as an expensive brand. Shadow feels a little guilty knowing precisely  _ how much _ the brand cost and is digging in a pocket for his wallet when the azure cracks the door and dumps the bottle in his lap.

"Don't try to pay me back," he asserts, pushing the key into the ignition and reviving the engine. One more wave to the echidna - who actually returns it - and he throws Nicole into gear after releasing the brake. "Think of it as my thank you, for agreeing to let me tag along. But also an apology, I guess?"

Shadow snorts and cradles the top tier whiskey in the crock of an elbow, resisting the urge to uncork it with his teeth. "An apology for what? There's far more irritating juniors I could have been lumbered with. Your unerring enthusiasm is tolerable."

"I'll take that as a compliment, but that's not what I meant." The ebon tenses slightly and glances to the young hedgehog staring dead ahead, knuckles white as a sheet and refusing to return his gaze while they pass the turn to his apartment. "'Cause if I'd told you not to go back to your place because of the stairs before taking off I'm pretty sure you'd have got out and walked back to the Den."

Shadow reconsiders popping the cork and fidgets uncomfortably. "I've stayed there before, so yes…" 

"Yeah, but I don't think bunking with the jackal is a wise idea, not with the limp he gave you last night." He slows to take an old, poorly kept street into Old Lower and finally glances over, nervous grin curling the edge of his muzzle. "I'm taking you to my place, just try not to swear too much in front of Cream or her Ma, okay? I'm pretty sure she'll whip you with a tea towel, and I can tell you, that  _ stings _ ."

_ I'm being held hostage by my own Junior. _

_ Well... shit. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	12. Varied Vices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonic's home life isn't quite what Shadow imagined. His Uncle's pretty fiery too.

**CHAPTER TWELVE: VARIED VICES**

Unsure what to even expect, the home they pull up to still falls short of expectations, given Sonic has mentioned three separate people who share it. It's more of a shack comparable to the old Den the Squad used to live in, though thankfully minus the shed fur insulation. A rectangle of worn and rotting wood inlaid with sparse shutters, thickly lacquered exteriors and curtains to ward off drafts sits in the middle of a trimmed lawn.

With no outdoor furniture besides the washing line strung with clothes, the yard doesn't even have a fence on its perimeter, their land undiscerned from that of their multiple neighbours. Grass glistens, waning light catching glass shards and scrap metal carelessly discarded by unsavoury individuals. Kids collect and sort this trash into wheelbarrows, their cries of delight upon finding used medical equipment in blades of grass sending pangs of sorrow into the detective's chest.

The selective blindness of Humankind is accepted amongst Chaotic populations. Known to be potent and unerring, it was common to lay blame on the persecuted for their lower social status; Gerald had even expressed that many bipeds lived in squalor because they couldn't be bothered to contribute to society. In the wake of these children farming their own yards for trash to return for pocket change, an uncomfortable truth leaves Shadow nauseous with guilt for ever believing Gerald to be infallible.

_ We prosecute those who steal and whore, but how many left mouths unfed to survive on the streets?  _

_ Will their children take the same route…? _

"Hey Shads," the call pulling him from his thoughts, dulled crimsons refocus and track to the azure now halfway to his house, a smile and wave for kids that pause their labour to greet a familiar face before he motions for Shadow to follow. "Come on! But stick to the patio stones, yeah? I laid them myself, since it's less dangerous to go picking large pieces than broken shards. Don't want one of the kidds to slice off a finger, do we?"

Sonic doesn't wait for a response. He picks his way across the grass in exaggerated hops and wobbling pauses, dramatically splaying his arms as he expels a series of concerned, single-syllable words. Shadow remains at the edge of the grass in confusion until a particularly unstable wobble has the children in fits of giggles and shouts of encouragement.

Then a chorus of gasps follows when he tips too far forwards, and Shadow is two strides up the path to catch the back of his coat before realising it's a part of the performance. The detective slows to a stop a few feet behind as Sonic catches himself on a palm, splays his fingers for balance and kicks off with his right foot. Legs fanned but sturdy, he somersaults over one paver to land and straighten to a round of applause from his audience on the next, grinning as he spins to execute a bow. 

"Thank you! Thank you! A pleasure to entertain." A kid whistles approval and Sonic chuckles, turning the smile on the detective as he fishes for his key. "C'mon, l'll grab us some glasses and get us settled; Chuck and Cream buy the groceries on Tuesdays, so we have time before they get back-"

The heavy wooden door swings inwards and a child throws themselves at the azure, forcing a gasp from the surprised hedgehog on impact. An unshapely dress of orange and white cheque falls to the tops of her knees, frill-topped socks pulled just beneath them and matching a crisp collar and sleeve at the hems. Both complement her white skirts beneath, as frilled and slightly greyed by age as the trim.

She clings to his hips, an affectionate nuzzling of his stomach a strange gesture for Shadow to process. "Welcome home, big brother!" The rabbit girl pulls back just enough to smile at him, then takes a hand and begins leading him inside without noticing his guest. "Me and Mister Chuck have done new words all day and it's been  _ really _ hard… Can you help me? Please? If you do, I'll make you a present!"

"Easy, Cream. Hold up a minute!" His tone is tinged with laughter, but Shadow can see the slight tense of azure jaws as he bends down to her height. He ruffles her head, and the little girl hums happily. "First, why're you back early? Did y'get everything we need?"

Large ears drooping, Cream looks back to the dark interior behind her a moment before meeting Sonic's steady gaze. "His back went funny lifting the potatoes, and we had to pay someone to bring our stuff home." Slender brown fingers bunch in her skirts, letting Shadow see how thin she really is beneath the oversized fabric. "We got the vegetables but didn't make it to the butcher… The guy wanted lots of money to bring it back for us too, so there's not much left… I hope Mother isn't mad."

"Of course she won't be." Sonic states with a smile, booping her nose with his index finger to make her cross-eyed and giggly. "Ya did good, kiddo. But that means I can't hang out with you; someone's gotta cook dinner, haven't they?" 

"I can cook." The words are out of Shadow's mouth before he can comprehend them, drawing both anxious honeys and curious emeralds. Finally aware of their audience and obviously unsettled, Cream slips behind Sonic's legs, clinging to his pants as her shield straightens. "Admittedly, it's been a while. But I'm sure it'll come back to me, if I'm permitted to assist."

Sonic chuckles and twists at his waist to the rabbit, seemingly unaffected by the light dig of claws in his waist. "It's okay, Cream. This is Shadow, my boss. He just needs somewhere to stay for tonight, since his apartment lock is broken. I promise he's nice."

When she doesn't come out, he looks to the ebon with a shrug and grabs behind him, making the girl squeal with delight as he hoists thin legs over his own lithe hips. "C'mon in," he states, taking heavily exaggerated steps punctuated by grunts of effort toward the door. "I'll show you where we keep stuff and introduce you to Unc, maybe even this one." 

He jostles the bunny and she giggles, grasping onto his ears hard enough to make Shadow cringe as the younger, seemingly unbothered hedgehog takes a large, halting step across the threshold. "Just don't let her on your back... God, she weighs a  _ ton _ ."

Their happiness dwarfs the poverty evident in their rundown house and slight builds, equally endearing as it is upsetting to watch the playful laughter. Their joy pulls a treasured but unwanted memory to the fore of his mind and with it, visages of a sister long passed and still-raw emotion.

* * *

_ Shadow sits upon the edge of his Owner's bed with the book in his lap, reading aloud as he sounds out syllables and rolls new words across his tongue. It's been a few months since Maria began tutoring him and by all accounts, progress has been impressive. It's not enough for a hedgehog acutely aware of his role model's disappointment though; he fears not just rejection but anger, or getting sold for daring to traverse established societal boundaries. _

_ But Maria is convinced proving his intelligence will win the elder over, so he's been diligent. Every night, he reads Maria to sleep; classic literature and an occasional romance piece the Chaotic won't admit to enjoying, even under duress. They vary wildly in vocabulary, supposedly to help his skills to develop faster, but squinting at the same word for almost three minutes to sound it out frustrates the eight year old ebon. _

_ "Indis… Indiscertain… indecis-" With a growl, hoglet Shadow slams the novel closed, tossing it carelessly onto the bed between them before flopping to his back with a tired groan. "This book is old and stupid and I don't want to read it anymore. Can I choose one now? I'm bored of 'art thou's and 'foresouth's." _

_ His younger Owner sits up and groggily rubs an eye with her angular fist, disturbed from near sleep. "Grandpa says old books are important. If you want to make him proud, they're what you need to read." _

_ "You don't have to read them," the ebon grumbles, pulling himself back to a sitting position to stare at bare feet. The clawed digits that stare back taunt their owner, wriggling on his command despite an inherent hatred of their animalistic appearance. The hoglet frowns, closing heavy eyes with a slight shake of the head. "There's no point... Shakespeare isn't going to change his mind; he'll just get mad you wasted time training a dumb pet to parrot the works of a respected screenwriter." _

But if I looked human, without fur and claws, would it even be better? Or would it be even worse? 

_ Blunt nails scratching behind an ear is momentarily calming, pulling Shadow from thought and a soft murr of pleasure from his throat, the inevitable catalyst for a renewed sense of self-hatred that has him jerk away from her. The silence sits heavily between them, hoglet flicking an ear indignantly and refusing to look up even when she speaks. "He's not going to hate you for trying, I promise. Grandpa sees potential, not gender, race or even species; we show him how clever you are, I'm sure-" _

_ "I'm eight, not a baby. I know how humans are," he states with a hint of bitterness. Arms folding across his chest, crimson eyes crack open to stare at dark, clawed caricatures of feet with resentment. "I'm not supposed to see how unfair it is, and take being called thick because I have fur and claws instead of hair and nails. Me being able to read some ancient book isn't going to change how every  _ damn human  _ besides you-" _

_ The girl gasps, both hands coming to her face as he turns with a raised brow. "What?" _

" _You said_ **_damn_** ," _she hisses, then clamps delicate fingers back over her mouth with another gasp. They stare silently at each other, both crimsons and sapphires wide with shock as guilt plummets to Shadow's stomach._

_ Just as he's about to apologise though, the girl begins to giggle; a bubbly, almost hiccuped sound so rare, it melts the ebon's anxiety in an instant.  _

_ Her joy is contagious. Soon, both have their hands clamped over their mouths, muffling their laughter to not draw ire for still being awake. Breathlessly high on a precious moment in life they'll revisit together in old age, it's the reprieve Shadow needs to return to his studies with a renewed fire, tucking the human two years his junior beneath her sheets and heading to bed only ten minutes later. _

* * *

Her laugh echoes in a mind emptied by a memory as haunting as it is reassuring. A chill judders down his spine, raising ebony fur in discomfort as the world beyond creeps back into focus; his legs feel weak as fists clench, the claws scratching his palms fuelling a renewed hatred for the hand life expects him to play.

_ But Maria was right; you valued my intelligence. If  _ _ only we'd made that meeting with the senator. _

Taking a deep breath, he reaches into his coat and extracts his hip flask, downing what remains of it's refreshed contents without tasting the harsh liquor. The Professor had believed in Chaotic intelligence, had even been making sociological waves when he died. Shadow doesn't believe in coincidences; he's sure the fire was no accident and is certain with the azure's help, they'll crack it  _ soon _ .

_ I need to stay stable until that happens.  _

_ After that, nothing else matters.  _

"Shads…?" Tired rubies scour up from recapping his flask to mildly concerned jades, though the lines on Sonic's forehead quickly morph into a smile as he nods inside the hut. "Like I said, come on in! I'll get you a glass and maybe Unc? A shot of whiskey'll soothe his back while we wait for Vanilla to get home. She has the co-codamol in her bag. I mean… if you still want to stay? You're good, right?"

The rabbit on his hips pivots slightly to peer around his frame, a sock already rolled to the ankle by the minorly rough play. "If… if you like, I can make you a present too, Mister Detective Shadow, Sir. It's nice of you to offer to make dinner, and as big brother seems to like you too, it'd make me happy!"

"I'm not sure a Chief Inspector of the SSPD Chaotics Quarter can rock a flower crown, Cream." When her ears noticeably droop in disappointment, Sonic chuckles and bounces her until she giggles before finally setting her back down. "Go get these tricky words ready. I'll give Shads the grand tour and get him settled. Once you're done learning, we'll make each other crowns out in the yard. Sound good?"

Cream smiles and nods enthusiastically, then runs inside without looking back, excited greeting and a brief explanation of the plan audible from the small hut as she tells Chuck the plan. With a bashful grin, Sonic scratches the back of his head as he turns to the detective, who seems bemused yet entertained by the whole exchange. "Well, I guess we don't get a quiet chat then. That's our landlady's girl. She can be… quite a handful at times, but she's sweet."

_ At least, that was the plan… so why do I feel guilty twenty years later? What has changed? _

He's not sure when it happened, but at some point the desire to lie down and die once his case has been closed has abated over the years. In its place, an empty chasm no amount of drink can numb; an ever present sensation of hopelessness, driving him towards his own abrupt death, yet making the very prospect of death so nauseating he's forced to seek Infinite's unique brand of relief.

Except it's getting worse, expanding to others in his life he certainly doesn't want to fuck, dragging him back from a cliff he'd been so certain he'd jump off for so long it feels like his soul still teeters on that edge. First Rouge and Espio, then the vulpine kid, and now this over-friendly junior and his adorable, adopted sister.

_ What's wrong with me? _

Realising he's been quiet too long, Shadow slips his flask away and swallows the lump in his throat, the sense he's somehow lost control of life uneasy in his chest. "She is," he answers thickly, not making eye contact as he motions towards the hut. "Go on ahead. It would be rude for me to enter before you, as your guest."

A grin slowly spreads across the azure's muzzle and he barely suppresses a jump of excitement. "Okay, yeah! But you're not just a guest if you make dinner for everyone, Shads. That makes you family." A hop towards the door and Sonic motions furiously for the older hedgehog to follow, quills bristled with an excitement the detective can feel prickling his skin. "Well let's go in then, before Cream drives Chuck to distraction describing her new friend."

Shadow follows on autopilot, barely noticing as the darkness of dusk becomes a pitch lit by flickers of candlelight. Emotions cloud his senses more than a shift in brightness could; while Chaotic eyes adjust to the shadows and sharpen their image with ease, the detective's mind struggles to process a sudden and unexpected flush of warmth through his chest.

_ It's the same as when Rouge called me a friend… _

Aware he's in a new environment and can't afford to be distracted, Shadow forces the thoughts to the back of his mind and finally sees the interior. They walk straight into the kitchen, homemade cabinets and worktops on wheels pressed to the back wall. Sonic stretches over them to close the shutters on a glassless window, stomach dangerously close to a lit hob simmering vegetable offcuts in stock. 

It's a cluttered, messy space: mismatched chairs at a stripped, unvarnished table; shelves bolted over the workbenches stacked with jars, packages and dry spices; herbs hanging to dry above the stove. Second hand and homemade storage units line the other walls, hinges without cabinet doors and glass missing from once ornate panes revealing more dry stock and raw ingredients. 

Barrels, boxes and crates of various origins labelled for the contents in block capitals - preserving salts, pickling fluids and tiny parcels of rare wares like sugar, tea leaves, lavender and herbal medicines - stacked by the front door. It's small, warm thanks to the stove and wooden walls scented by meals cooked over decades, an oddly comforting smell to mask the acrid harsh lacquer on the walls.

A woven carpet sits beneath the small table in the kitchen, far enough from a support that traverses the width of the home to leave an arch beneath accessible. Beyond is another space cluttered with furniture. An armchair and sofa occupy the left side of the space, a radio on a crate and chess table set close to the sofa back. To the right, Cream scrawls in a notebook with fervour at an old table, scraps of paper held by a metal loop through a corner acting as a notebook.

"You gotta stop bringing home strays, boy." 

The elder hedgehog is easy to miss amongst all the clutter. Shorter than average - likely malnourished as a child, common amongst Owned or poor - and fur faded to a pastel blue, Chuck would seem like a child at the table if it weren't for the thick, white moustache on his upper lip. Intelligent irises of the same faded aquamarine meet crimsons without hesitation, their owner's irritation palpable in his gaze as he scours Shadow's form. "Even if he ain't eaten for a week, we can't afford t'keep-"

"Can I just-" Interjection met with a glare, the azure cowers slightly, then clears his throat and stands up straighter, motioning to his mentor with a hint of forced confidence in his tone. "This is Shadow. You remember, right? First Chaotic Detective, my new mentor and boss? The guy that cracked those rings wide open?"

"I ain't senile yet, Sonny-Boy. I know who he is." His hand reaching for a walking stick, the old hedgehog stands stiffly and traverses the table with his free hand splayed on the table top. Awkwardly bent at the waist and obviously in pain, ebon ears fold with uncertainty beneath the scrutinising stare until the elder pauses and offers his hand. "Charles Maurice Hedgehog. A pleasure to meet the Chaotic driving forward the Free Rights movement."

The detective takes his hand and shakes firmly, a note of how weak Charles is in comparison logged through habit. He doesn't look away though, those pale blues so sharp and attentive he's sure the old man is gauging him right back. "Shadow," he states, the realisation he hasn't a surname to offer causing a pause. "Just… Shadow. Your home is… quaint?"

Chuck snorts humorlessly and releases his hand, an unsteady turn as he curses his back and starts back to his chair. "Don't sugarcoat th'truth, we know we live in a dumpster. You've seen th'lawn." He lowers back into his chair slowly, hissing with pain as his behind hits hard wood then carefully props his stick within easy reach. "Y'look like yer rolled outta Old Lower yerself, Boy. Thought you'd be livin' in Outer Central after _'ow_ _many_ years on th'force? Sixteen?"

"Twenty," the ebon replies crisply, barely keeping a warning growl from his tone when those pale blues refocus on his face with piercing intensity. "I prefer to be close to work, and invest in other things."

"The whole neighbourhood can smell that," Chuck states blandly, pausing to retrieve his pipe and add fresh tobacco. Feeling his shoulders tense, Shadow forcibly relaxes them while the elder lights his pipe. When he glances back his lips are thin and his eyes hold a spark of distaste, though shaking hands belie a touch of hypocrisy. "I'm gettin' booze and cigs off yer coat, an' you might be clean but yer suit sure ain't, so I'm guessin' yer washed some sex off real recently too. That what yer investin' in?"

Sending his uncle a pointed look, Sonic grabs two glasses from the cabinet. "Okay, I got glasses, Shads why don't you-"

"Not that it's any of your business," Shadow states, not breaking eye contact with the hedgehog as he puffs his pipe. Handing Sonic the bottle to pour, he braces both palms on the table and leans closer, adding in a near-whisper. "I can smell an addict a quarter mile away. Let's see; a shot back, a stick up your ass about legal vices and a sharp temper? My money's on presciption drugs. So, old man, what's your poison? Codeine? Morphine? Co-codamol?"

Pale ears fold back on the third suggestion and a harsh sneer creeps onto Shadow's muzzle. "Mother Bunny has the drugs because you can't be trusted? At least I know better than to get shitfaced with a kid around. Be thankful your nephew's a good kid, or I'd report your ass to Child Protective Services-"

An azure head inserts itself between them, a scowl on his face and a glass in each hand. "Look, I get it. You're both adults, you both have…  _ problems _ . But right now, you're literally insulting each other over a problem you  _ both have _ . D'you know how dumb it sounds? So sit down and have a drink, Shads. Don't try telling me you don't need it, neither; your hand ain't stopped shaking since lunch."

His sets the glass down hard and begins pouring. Shadow returns the glare but quietly does as he's told, Sonic not turning his ire on the older hedgehog until that flat ebon ass is settled. When he does though, his tone is just as tight. "Vanilla will be home soon. I'm going to take Cream outside so you can swear and shout all you like at each other, but  _ try  _ to be civil. Please? You're both role models to me. It'd be nice if you got on."

Second glass placed just as firmly on the wood, the azure calls to Cream after pouring another shot, not offering either elder even a glance as he gets her into a coat and shoes and hustles her outside. A slam of the door and the kitchen falls silent, a gentle hiss of stock boiling on the stove the only sound as the pair share a glance then quickly look away. 

Shame burns beneath Shadow's pelt as he sips his whiskey, a refined burn muted with spice and age, tired crimsons cast to the dented table while framed with heavy lids. He can't see Chuck besides thin fingers wrapped around his own tumbler, but the enduring quiet suggests he feels the same. 

Unable to bear it, the detective necks his drink and stands, turning to give the stock a cursory stir and a taste. It's hearty in body, tasting of a variety of root vegetables - leeks and carrots, mostly - but there's a distinct lack of seasoning. He glances around and checks a few cupboards before he sucks in a breath and breaks the silence. "Where's the salt?"

"Ain't got none," the turquoise hedgehog growls in between puffs on his pipe, drink wholly untouched. "You want fancy food, you're in th'wrong Quarter."

Ebony quills bristle at the tone, but Shadow forces them to relax as he stirs, glaring at the broth in lieu of Charles. It's pretty much done then, needing to have offcuts removed and real vegetables added. "Forgive me," the detective states as he finds a dish and begins spooning out the base, trying to keep the animosity from his tone. "It's been a while since I cooked last, the scarcity slipped my mind."

Chuck mutters something quietly. Shadow turns an ear towards the table as he adds the bowl of diced vegetables to the pan. "The kid thinks yer a hero, you know. Wouldn't stop yammerin' on about yer. I thought it were some child thing he'd grow out of once his balls dropped. Then he started on about bein' a cop like you, an' I knew he weren't kiddin'."

The statement is laced with distaste. Shadow has to force his hackles back down, stirring paused as he listens more intently. "I told him it ain't no pretty job like the papers show, that he'd see real serious shit on the force, but he's stubborn like his Pa; there's no changin' his mind once an idea's in there. But I s'pose that's how th'young are, eh?"

Shadow glances over a shoulder, watching the old addict relight his pipe with unsteady digits all too familiar to the ebon himself. Once lit, Charles puffs on the thing a few times to steady himself before he continues through the smoke. "Th'boy were too young to remember bein' Owned. Was private, like servants without pay, if put simple. I got lucky with a man too lazy to file his own taxes and got learnin' of sorts, but his Pa? A stableboy and handyman, though I had t'help him frequent like."

Early memories of being treated more like the hired help than family come back to the ebon; of cooking meals and changing sheets, helping Maria to wash and dress on bad days, moving her tiny frame in or out of her wheelchair. He'd been content, but compared to the life he was afforded later it had been devoid of the most basic needs he struggles to identify even today. 

"In case yer wonderin', I fell off a roof trying t'keep his Pa from doin' the same." Another pause to puff on his pipe, eyes glazed by upsetting recollection. "Landed right on him. Maurice died there and my back ain't never been the same, but th'Owner didn't want a cripple an' orphan nephew t'care for, so we got given our Freedom; threw us out onto th'street with th'clothes on our backs, the bastard."

A moment too late, Shadow realises his usual mask of disinterest has slipped from his features and he forces it back on. "I'm sorry you endured such egocentricity. It's said behaviour that inspired my desire to become a detective; we are the opportunities we're afforded, not inherently stupid. Humanity fails to see that."

"Ain't that th'truth." 

Aquamarine irises boring into the ebon's cheek, Chuck puffs in thought. The intense scrutiny makes Shadow uncomfortable, who shifts his weight to his other foot and looks back to the stove, wishing he had poured another drink. "You good there, Boy?" The elder takes the pipe from chapped lips to point at him with its stem. "Yer lookin' real shifty, like I brought up somethin' a touch too personal. I got all night, if you want someone t'unload on."

Stiffening defensively, the detective replaces the lid on the meatless soup and tempers the flame down to a simmer, leaving the spoon on the counter. He's a terrible liar, so tells him a half truth instead. "No. Memories of old cases. Nothing to concern yourself about, though I do appreciate the offer."

Chuck huffs in disbelief, the gentle splash of liquor into an empty glass drawing tired crimsons back to the table. The old hedgehog recorks the bottle and slides the refreshed tumbler back to the opposite side, motioning for Shadow to sit. "Sure thing, Boy. Whenever yer ready. 'Til then, tell me some tales of yer biggest cases and have another drink; it sounds like you earned it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang with us on Discord! https://discord.gg/reCxjtm
> 
> Follow me on the Sims 4 gallery for Noir set builds! #milleowkittan #MobiusNoir


	13. Midnight Meets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its an angst sandwich, with Cream either side.  
> I take no responsibility for injuries of the heart.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: MIDNIGHT MEET**

When Sonic returns from making daisy chains and flower crowns, Chuck and the detective are being suspiciously amicable; dinner simmering away atop the stove, they've retreated further into the house and are in the midst of a tense game of chess when Cream skips inside ahead of her brother. She places a wildflower crown between faded ears, humming happily as the elder ruffles her hair with an adoring smile, then turns to Shadow with a hopeful glint in her eyes and the final crown clutched in her hands.

Emerald irises flicker to his mentor. As hard as he'd tried, Cream had insisted on making their guest a crown, convinced he'd feel left out if everyone but him had one. Torn between not wanting to shatter her naive generosity and concerned Shadow might shoot her down too harshly, he'd procrastinated on trying again until it was too late. Now she's in front of the bull and risking the horns, making Sonic too anxious to lay the table as she offers his irritable boss a delicately threaded daisy crown.

"Would you like yours too, Detective Shadow, Sir?" She holds the delicate accessory up hopefully, oblivious to the tense of quills and ear flicker that belies the ebon's discomfort. Sonic is about to step in when unexpectedly, Shadow dips his head and allows the bouncing bunny to place a wreath of pink-rimmed daisies between his ears. "I made it special for you, with pink daisies so your quills look pretty! Doesn't he look pretty, Sonic?"

He's still frozen with surprise when Shadow turns, tired crimson glare startling him from silence. "Oh, uh… I'm not sure he looks _pretty,_ but it… does match his quills, sorta? You did good, Cream."

The youngster beams and sways on the spot, only to throw herself back into the kitchen upon hearing the door creak. A few seconds later, she's dragging an older rabbit into the room by the hand, not even allowing time to remove her coat. The resemblance is uncanny, almost the spitting image of her mother as she drags Vanilla into the living area excitedly. "Come, Mother! Come meet our guest; he's Sonic's boss! Chuck's been beating him at chess!"

Uncle Chuck doesn't look up from his game. "Let 'er get in would ya, Girl? She's had a long day." After a moment of thought, he moves his remaining knight and leans back with a light chuckle to puff his pipe. "But I sure am scraggin' him, ain't I? Outta practice, Sonny-Boy? Or have yer always been this bad?"

"It's been months since I last played," the detective responds flatly, not taking his eyes from the board before he makes his move; a simple shift of a rook. "I usually play with an old friend, but we've been too busy as of late. I hope to rectify that once this most recent wave of criminal activity ceases."

_An old friend? Infinite…?_

Shadow stands and turns without much fanfare, an approximation of a smile on his lips as he offers the older rabbit a hand. "Apologies for the intrusion; a certain hedgehog decided I shouldn't go back to an apartment with a faulty-" Expecting a handshake, he cuts off when the woman takes his hand in both of hers, glancing down at them. They're larger than his own, drowning his slim fingers as he continues. "Lock. It's only for tonight, though if inconvenient-"

"Nonsense," she interrupts, drawing his attention to a kind smile as she gives his hand a squeeze. "As Sonic's friend and mentor, you're always welcome, Detective. It's our pleasure, especially as Cream likes you."

Her eyes stray to his head. Sonic stifles a snort in a palm as the usually stoic ebon's muzzle flares pale pink. "Ah, yes." He pauses and rubs a petal gently between two fingers in thought, then floors the azure by turning to Cream with a genuine smile. "It brings out the red streaks, as you say. Thank you for such a thoughtful gift, young lady."

Face lighting up, Cream bounds forwards and gives him a hug, an embrace Shadow hesitantly returns. Sonic watches in bewilderment as life continues on like nothing is amiss straight after; Chuck heads for the kitchen to finish up dinner and Vanilla checks her daughter's school work, Cream bounding off to lay the table and fill a jug of water.

The ebon watches her leave with an odd expression on his features; his lips are thin and tight, jaw set in a benign frown, but his eyes are soft and emotive until they cool down and snap back to Sonic. He doesn't speak but it's honestly unnecessary, the warning clear in his scowl and stiff body language until the ebon breaks it to assist in the kitchen.

His form melds into the dark room before crisping back into focus as jade orbs adjust, stark streaks of crimson making his figure easy to locate and focus. Now settling bowls on the mats Cream has laid out with care his features have softened; echoes of an old, disused smile curve tan lips, the young rabbit narrating her recent studies to an old hedgehog who surely couldn't care less, but offers his entire attention with a confusing spark of life in his eyes.

"Your mentor seems kind," Vanilla states softly, not looking up from her daughter's work as Sonic glances at her. "I was concerned he would be quite abrasive after your description, yet he seems harsh only on his juniors. I suppose that moulds more efficient officers than gentle guidance would; encouraging independence through high expectation."

Sure, the detective had been volatile and abrasive, but he'd never stepped beyond certain boundaries; he's not struck Sonic for impotence yet, nor lost his composure with Infinite despite everything he does and expects. Hell, the level of patience with Schlemmer's disjointed rambling and farcical memory when they needed results was admirable. Shadow might be a drunk leaning heavily on his vices but beneath it, shines a tempered man by compassion, one who permits children and those of less coherency more kindness than expected.

Sonic fists a hand in a pocket guiltily. "Yeah, I guess so…"

\--

_"SSPD DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"_

_Both crimson and dichromatic irises snap to the door and the shout from outside, but both are moving on instinct as soon as the first shot fires; Infinite draws an adapted pistol from his desk as he stands, while Shadow stubs out a cigarette and reaches for his own firearm, only to find his waistband empty. Half-raised from the chair with his palm on the desk for balance, he searches every pocket of his suit. "Shit. Where the fuck did I-"_

_Black fingers fist his collar and twist, cutting the detective off. Shadow grabs the offending wrist as he's hoisted away from the desk and thrown against a wall, unable to do anything but grunt in discomfort as the fabric is pulled tighter around his windpipe. The air is thick with tension. Shadow tries and fails to lever the other's stifling grip off as their silence is punctuated by shouts and gunshots throughout the Den, surprise and death echoing off the outer office wall in a jarring cacophony._

_But Shadow barely hears it over the mismatched stare flooding his blood with fear. He struggles to loosen the jackal's grip but instead it tightens further, drastically limiting how much air he can draw in. Hatred radiates off Infinite in waves as suffocating as his grasp. Shadow can feel his lungs start to burn as his heart picks up in pace. "How coincidental; you lose your gun just as your boys raid my den? If this is a double cross, Detective, it will be the_ **_last_ ** _mistake you_ **_ever_ ** _make."_

 _Threat over, the jackal's grip loosens. Shadow rips the fist from his collar with a snarl that barely masks the shake in his breath. "And why the_ **_fuck_ ** _would I do that after more than a decade? I must've left it at work, asshole. If you-"_

_A loud thud on the locked door draws them back into the moment. They regard the door warily then share an equally concerned glance, the Den beyond deathly quiet in the wake of sudden violence. The pain of their deaths is evident in Infinite's tight jaw, but it doesn't crack his stoic mask; another kick splinters the lock and the jackal is in motion once more, grabbing the ebon and drawing him into a chokehold against his chest as wood splinters._

_He has a second to realise it's to be used as a meat shield before the pistol muzzle presses to his temple, a ghost of a whisper in his ear sending a shiver through his frame. "Stay quiet, we might both still walk away from this."_

_To both their surprise, the first to step through the mist of dust and shattered wood is Sonic. Despite Infinite's order, the detective growls as the azure raises a familiar gun to eye level and carefully clicks back the firing pin. The arm across his throat tightens and Shadow grunts, bringing a deep frown to his junior's features as he takes aim. "It's over, Infinite. Drop the gun and let him go, before I have to put a bullet between your eyes like I did the old dog."_

_Shadow tries to speak but can't force enough air past the jackal's hold, instead rasping nonsense as he claws at his forearm. Infinite takes little notice, addressing the azure with fangs bared and tone low. "You traitorous little shit. Do you have_ **_any_ ** _idea the decades of work you're undoing? For what, a leg up with some bulbous human asshole who'll gladly throw you under the bus after years of service? You're just a puppet with a badge."_

 _"More than you are." the azure retorts, fingers flexing on the handle of his gun but not a flicker in his features. The look in his eyes is stony even as they flicker to Shadow a moment, then Sonic flashes his own fangs. "But I'm not here to debate ethics, jackal. I'm here to take you in. Now put the gun down_ slowly _and let the detective go."_

 _"Open your damned eyes, hedgehog! There's far larger,_ **_human_ ** _threats you could be dealing with, but you're on my case?" Infinite jostles his captive accidentally in anger, making the ebon gasp for air and Sonic tense on the trigger. "Now, you listen to_ **_me_ ** _, Pup. If you don't put that gun down, only one of us walks out of here alive. Do you want that on your gravestone? 'Too thick to quit'?"_

_A small smirk plays on his lips. "Have it your way, then."_

_Crimson orbs widen a millisecond before the shot is fired. It feels like the world slows to a crawl; the dull thunk of a bullet hitting dense skull; the spurt of blood from over his right shoulder; the loss of pressure on his throat and the jackal taking a step back with the force of impact._

_Immediately Shadow spins to assist, uncaring if any of the SSPD see, only for ice to fill his veins. Dichromats stare back unfocused and lifeless, the gun falling from weakened fingers as his whole body tips back under the weight of death. The air sucked out of his lungs, Shadow struggles to think as time catches up suddenly. Infinite's body abruptly crashes into his desk, bending subject to force listlessly until finally falling in an ungainly heap at his feet, mouth still slightly agape in surprise and a trickle of blood flowing from his forehead._

_Emotions still catching up with reality, the ebon tries to breathe but instead, utters a strangled sob. A hand to his mouth, he takes a step backwards on shaking legs then, unable to look at Infinite's body any longer, turns with an uncoordinated yet rapid stumble. Blinded by despair and emotion, he doesn't realise Sonic still has the gun raised until he walks into the barrel, a hollow_ clunk _of metal on bone as it taps against a temple. It's still warm enough to singe his fur, but he can barely focus on that or the unforgiving emeralds beyond._

_"I'd say I did you a favour but after a little thinking, this whole scenario is going to be easier to explain without you muddying my report."_

_He knows he should feel fear or anger, but Shadow is too numb, silent tears streaming down his muzzle for the loss of a loved one. He doesn't even flinch as Sonic pulls back the pin again, closing his eyes in acceptance of the death he's craved but avoided, because of the jackal_ **_, his_ ** _jackal._

_The shot is hot and excruciating to endure, an abstract white compared to the expected darkness. He takes it without complaint though, too marred by betrayal and the murder of his close friend - lover? - to want to live as Sonic's final words echo in his forcefully emptied mind._

_"Thanks for the guidance, but it's time you retired._

_"Sayonara, Detective Shadow."_

* * *

Shadow wakes with a start, gasping for breath as he bolts upright then hisses in pain, pressing the heel of a palm to his throbbing temple. It's not distraction enough from his dream though; muscles shudder under ebon pelt soaked in by a sheen of cold sweat, chest heaving for breath and heart beating erratically. Had he not just awoken from a nightmare, he'd be headed to the Chaotic Infirmary to be checked out for the flu. Instead, he closes his eyes and digs the tips of his claws into the sofa, careful not to rip the upholstery as his body calms down.

_Wait, sofa?_

Worried rubies shoot open and study his surroundings, but a disconcertingly unfamiliar home greets his rapidly adjusting eyes. Dark and grey scale but definitely not his studio apartment, Shadow's muddied mind struggles to place the scenery. The kitchen glows a faded orange from the wood burning stove warming the house, shades of black becoming chairs, tables, surfaces and bookcases still eluding his memory. Closer, a desk on the far wall also glows beneath the candlelight of an old lantern, faded tapestry on the back wall lit as if on fire. The sofa faces another wall, coffee table with radio, and a wicker armchair in which sits a concerned-looking bunny child.

As soon as their eyes meet, the young girl smiles kindly and releases the night gown fabric she bunched in her lap, letting it fall to her ankles. "I'm so glad you woke up, Mister Shadow. You sounded like you were having a bad dream." Still a little dazed and unable to recall her name the ebon stays silent, though this only brings a frown to her childish features. "Are you okay? Bad dreams make me worried and sad. Like this one time, I dreamed Sonic didn't come home for a whole week and-"

"Cream," he states as soon as the name comes back, his intentionally harsh inflection making the girl stiffen. As large ears droop slightly, she bunches her skirt again and with guilt creeping up the ebon's spine, he continues in a soft tone, careful to express his concern instead of irritation. "It was just a dream, Cream. I'm fine-" A poor lie, given his core muscles still quiver with residual stress. He takes a deep, steadying breath. "Why are you awake? It's still dark outside."

Thin fingers pinch the white, lace-trimmed fabric. "I don't always sleep too well, and when I woke up you sounded sad. I thought I could help, maybe. Like Mother does for me when I dream scary things." Her floppy ears perk as if suddenly recalling something and she shifts forwards to cup an earthen mug in both hands, holding it in offering much like the crown the night prior. "I made tea! When I can't sleep Mother makes me tea, so I made you some as well! It chases the nightmares away!"

Shadow regards the mug almost suspiciously at first. It's been a long time since anyone made him something, let alone two things without expecting something in return. For a long second, he waits for the punchline that never comes before finally realising how idiotic he's being; the girl is a child, perhaps as young as six or seven, acting out her Mother's part in a life that likely still feels like a story.

_She's being kind, stop being an ass._

Setting his blanket fully aside, he swings his legs from the sofa and settles bare feet on worn floorboards, crimson irises only leaving her own deep auburns to reach for the mug. She relinquishes it gladly, but as the chill china rests in ebony fur and brings a slight frown to his lips, Cream resumes talking in hasty prose. "I… I'm sorry it's cold. Mother says I'm too young to use the kettle, and the fire is low, but even cold tea makes me happy when I'm sad! I... I hope you don't mind…"

A brief memory of being tucked in with Maria in her bed, both too sick to eat, the taste of sweetened black tea on his tongue far better than bile. That tea had been brewed hot by Gerald but the sentiment is similar; to soothe a disjoined mind back to sleep. 

Without further hesitation he takes a sip, careful not to slurp the brew thanks to the _many_ slaps on an ear as a child, only to be pleasantly surprised by the unobtrusive air-cold beverage sweetened almost exactly to memory. He closes his eyes and savours the bitterness as it revives a throat hoarse from distress, forcing his tired mind to focus inward and reminding the anxious hedgehog it was nothing more than a dream as cold fluid floods his chest. 

It's enough to loosen the tightness in his ribs and settle his roiling stomach. More thankful than he thought he'd be for cold tea on a chilly night, Shadow cracks his eyes lazily to regard the rabbit again. Perched on the edge of her seat in trepidation she watches closely, lightly biting a lip as she awaits his verdict. Fingers dig into her knees, eyes alive with a level of emotional intensity Shadow has never felt that sends quivers through her thin frame.

_Jesus, even if I hated it, I couldn't tell her so._

"Thank you," he states quietly, and her ears perk up in an instant, a large smile on tan lips as she reaches for the other mug and takes a far less dainty drink. She downs most of it at once. The ebon suspects Vanilla doesn't put quite so much sugar in her own tea with how hard it has become to get hold of, but decides not to question it. "You have a kind Mother, a commodity in recent times. Be sure to take care of her when she's old, kid."

She hums thoughtfully and they drink in silence. A feral beast screams into the night as Cream finishes and puts her cup back on the coffee table -- a large crate quickly sanded off and treated, Shadow realises in the low light. He expects her to go to bed but she doesn't, holding the edge of her armchair and swinging her legs absently as she watches. A surprisingly melodic hum in her throat is as soothing as the tea and soon, the ebon feels drowsy again, though he's determined to finish his drink.

"Do you have someone to care for, Mister Shadow?" 

Not expecting the question, nor the image of Infinite it draws to mind as he takes another sip, he chokes on the mouthful and coughs raggedly into a fist to clear both it and the phlegm it dislodges. Seemingly unphased by the sudden thoracic spasms of her guest, the bunny quietly claps her hands together and bounces in her seat. "So you do? That makes me so happy, because she's lucky to have you! I don't think you're grumpy at all; big brother just hates being told what to do. Once, Uncle Chuck-"

" _Cream,_ " he asserts, cutting her off with less remorse a second time as he reaches for his handkerchief. "While I appreciate your-" Shadow pauses and hacks up a night's worth of thick phlegm, muffling his coughs as best he can using the old monogrammed cloth until his airways are clear enough to speak. "...appreciate your kindness and company, I wouldn't continue to be respectable if I didn't make sure you got enough sleep. We can talk tomorrow."

"Oh." He glances up to see slight disappointment on her features as she stares down at her large bare feet, but it's soon displaced by a smile. "I can't stay to talk tomorrow - Uncle Chuck has an appointment for his back at a clinic, so Mother is taking me to a friend's house on her way to work - but if you promise to visit again, we can talk next time. Okay?"

_I shouldn't care what she wants, she's not my pup._

"Okay," he grinds out through thin lips, and the bunny squeaks and jumps forward, almost spilling the remains of Shadow's tea as she envelopes the startled ebon with spindly arms. He raises it above his head just in time, but it doesn't keep the rise of a long-since forgotten emotion that tingles almost uncomfortably beneath her nuzzles of affection. "Hey! Easy, careful! You almost spilled my tea!"

She pulls away sheepishly, but he honestly doesn't care for the tea; the sensation now tricking through his veins and flooding his brain is unwanted, chemical messages trying to foster a kinship with a random child because it's been too long since he felt… _loved_. Anger simmers in his muscles and Shadow grits his teeth, tempering his own emotions as best he can until the girl speaks. "I didn't mean to upset you, Mister Shadow, sir. I only wanted-"

"I'm not upset with you," he states in truth, but unable to look at her as his nostrils flare with self-distaste he's not sure she's convinced. "I'm just… tired. I'd like to attempt to sleep again, if you're ready to return to bed."

Cream doesn't respond immediately, but he finds himself drawn back into a more careful hug this time, her large ears spread across his upper arms as frail ones lightly squeeze his torso. "Thank you for coming to dinner. Even if you don't come back, Mother knows big brother has a nice mentor now. She won't worry so much." The rabbit straightens and smiles. "And I'm happy to have made a new friend, if just for tonight."

Her sincerity slicing through his resolve, Shadow places his cup down to finish later and gently holds the young girl's biceps, meeting her naive gaze in earnest. "I don't make promises I can't keep. I don't know when I'll be able to visit... But, I'm leaving you in charge of that idiot brother of yours until I do. Can I trust you to keep an eye on him?" 

The widest grin cracking her muzzle, the lapin nods with enthusiasm, pausing as Shadow ruffles her hair only to giggle when he finishes with a gentle boop on the nose. "Good. Now; back to bed. Before your Mother wakes up and we're both in trouble."

A soft smile of his own, he watches her skip over to the ladder and climb up to the attic where the others sleep, a final glance back to wave before she slips out of sight. It's a surreal night for the detective, but he tries not to think about it much, allowing what's left of her gift to soothe his soul from within before laying back down. He drifts off relatively quickly and dreams now of making flower crowns with Maria, of health, fresh air and laughter that comforts him even though they can never share it in life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	14. The Schlembone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heading over to visit the mortician early in the morning, Sonic gets a lot more than he bargained for. At least its delicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. That was a long, unintentional wait, wasn't it? Unfortunately my mental health decided to take a nose dive and updates may be a little slow for a while, but we're back in business! 
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**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE SCHLEMBONE**

Much to Sonic's relief, the detective sleeps uncharacteristically late the next morning, allowing the azure to slip out in the guise of a run. He realises Shadow is likely catching up on rest after the  _ lively _ night prior to their sleepover, but he tries not to think about the details of that too much as the brisk early morning air fills his lungs, chill against the heat emanating from his muscles. He's acutely aware of the time and how little there is before he's due at work, even more so of when he needs to return home to change and convince his mentor it's simply his morning routine 

_ 'Cause if I have to lie, he's gonna see right through me. _

Having been jogging for most of his teenage years, he's out of Old Westside and half way through Central in less than forty five minutes, only taking another thirty to clear the quiet city centre and step into Outer Central. Technically the east of the large city, its predominantly Human population had refused New Eastside as a borough name on the principle it was too similar to that of the Chaotic Quarter. As a kid he saw it as individuality, but as an adult Sonic sees intended segregation, residents not wanting to be associated with the Old Town they left behind for their Freed possessions to repopulate, setting themselves apart.

The homes here are all newly built and set on small plots, fences around each yard to create pockets of individuality and safety. It mirrors the dilapidated colonial builds of Lower Westside, could even be the same district if it had been left to rot as well; homes distinguished from one another by painted shutters and fence posts line the straight street almost endlessly, most of them two stories with the odd cabin-esque single dotted between, all of them finished by private driveways and flowers bordering lawns. 

Schlemmer's home isn't far beyond the border and Sonic stops at the gate to catch his breath, glancing behind to the menagere of dense-packed builds he passed to reach small estate homes, paths decorated by trees with tiny fences around their bases and immaculate sidewalks. It's like he's jogged into an entirely different world, one where pedestrians look at him like roadkill and his junior's badge wouldn't be enough to get into a crime scene, let alone grant any authority with the populace.

_ Chaos, I sound like the detective… and it's only day three. _

Not wishing to bring himself down even further, he takes a last lungful of air staring at the city centre then turns, letting himself into Schlemmer's yard through the unlocked gate. The grass is neatly cut and bordered by bright flowers, the pathway made of matching, unchipped stone slabs, not a glimmer of broken glass or discarded hypodermics in sight. The air even feels clearer, the sky bluer. By the time Sonic makes it to the old Chaotic's step it's almost offensive for the hedgehog raised in a glorified hut.

He knocks without pause, eyes locked on the door so as not to make himself more agitated. Seconds pass and unable to quell the unexpected turmoil inside knocks again, insistent his trip to the upper-class neighbourhood won't be a waste of time. He's a second from literally banging on the wood when the door opens to a disheveled, rather irritated looking green Chaotic with hair fluffed out like an afro, though the frown quickly becomes a grin as he recognises the junior detective. "Ah, Zoneek! Ein pleasure! You and ze detectif have come for breakfast? Vonderbar!"

"No, Professor I-" He catches the others' sleeve as he turns to go inside, but with no explanation ready Sonic falters, letting go of Schlemmer's robe as he clears his throat. "No, it's only me. I wanted to ask you something… you know, without Shadow here. Can I come in a sec?"

The elder raises a brow in question that becomes a toothy smile as seconds pass. "I see," He runs clawless fingers through his wild hair, yanking them when they get stuck half way into the weave, and it springs cartoonishly into shape as they slip free. "You are here for the Schlembone, yis?" The junior's eyebrows knit with confusion, promoting the elder to elaborate. "Zere is no need to be shy, mm? I von't tell ze detectif you are having need to sex-"

Face quickly flooding bright pink, Sonic rapidly raises his palms, shaking them and his head insistently.  _ "No! Nonono!" _ Realising he's being rude a moment too late to take it back, he grimaces and forcefully straightens his posture, scratching behind his ear awkwardly. "What I meant was, while you are…  _ quite a catch," _ he offers the poorly veiled rebuttal carefully, relieved when the mortician seems to take it as a compliment. The elder smiles a toothy grin even as the azure expands the point. "I'm not gay, or single. I wanted to talk about his cold case."

"Ze Robotnik case," Schlemmer acknowledges, pulling his robe back up an exposed shoulder Sonic is grateful went unnoticed moments before. In contrast, the elder's mood has muted substantially after mentioning his boss' case, a pensive frown on grey lips as he waves the junior inside. "Come. I vill make tea."

Semi-reluctant from being hit on he steps inside slowly, noting the mortician goes right rather than left into the business. The door is identical, a mirror of the crematorium entrance with a rack covered in eccentric hats mounted on the wall opposite the front door. The morgue had been sterile and spotless, metal and stone gleaming beneath gas lights, but Schlemmer's home is the exact opposite; wicker furniture straining beneath cushions and throws and repurposed pallets nailed together and painted to become a coffee table greet him. Further inside the larger room, spindly wooden dining chairs with sewn-on seat pads sit around an equally rickety circular table barely big enough for two. Rugs cover bare boards and photo frames clutter available surfaces, though most of them are either empty or seem to be x-rays or other unidentifiable scientific paraphernalia, a desk beneath the back window cluttered with paperwork, pens and folders.

The mortician is just out of sight, in the kitchen tucked behind the hallway back wall. "Sit, sit!" He urges without even looking to see if Sonic has done so already, the rush of water evident he is indeed making tea as promised. The azure hesitantly perches on the edge of the sofa and immediately sinks into the cushions, eaten alive by the fabric until he doesn't want to get up again. He's far too comfortable, comprehension muffled by the lure of a nap while Schlemmer continues. "You 'ave not eaten? It will be ine pleasure to have a guest for breakfast. It is still early, yis? You have time to eat?"

Sonic blinks and forces himself to sit up, upbringing in a frugal household making the suggestion uncomfortable despite having invited others to eat at their table. "Thanks, but I don't wanna eat your food, Schlem." Still feeling out of place, he stands again and wanders over to the kitchen, leaning against the archway to watch Schlemmer fuss with mugs, some complicated teapot and leaf strainer set-up, then check the oven while the kettle heats on the stove. Whatever he's cooking smells unfamiliar, similar to tinned tuna but more like the ocean and sea air. It makes Sonic's stomach rumble embarrassingly loud and the azure rambles in response to the raised brow his host offers. "Anythin' I can do to help? Lay the table, grab the sugar? Maybe-"

"You can  _ sit,"  _ the elder reiterates, abandoning his task to usher Sonic towards the little dining table with friendly shoves. Once the hedgehog is seated and content he'll stay there, Schlemmer huffs in satisfaction and turns back to the whistling kettle, lifting it and pouring the water into the teapot while he speaks. "Und talk. Vhat is it you want to know about ze case, hm? It is all in ze file. I am not sure vhat I can offer you."

It feels strange, to be in another's home without normal attire and speaking candidly with a Chaotic in his night clothes. "Uh," he falters, glad Schlemmer has the presence of mind not to look at him as he recovers. "Well, anything you remember as odd, I guess?" He holds his hands out for the proffered cup and saucer and is confused to find it empty. Only when Schlemmer places the still steaming teapot on a raised stand in the middle of the table does he realise its not yet been served. Eyes flickering to the elder's back, he watches the mortician finishing up a sauce on the stove as something pink steams on a tray beside him. "A weird wound, marking or odd positioning of the bodies, maybe? The murder weapon was never found, right? Do you have clues as to what it could've been? Calibre, model or manufacturer?"

Schlemmer turns an almost pitiful frown on him. "I understand ze drive to 'elp ze detectif solve 'is case, Zoneek. Chaos knows I 'ave tried. But we 'ave scour-ed every piece of evidence before." The junior detective frowns at his empty cup as a pit forms in his stomach. Failure hadn't seemed like a viable outcome until now and it stings. The placement of a steaming plate of food jolts the youngster out of silent, internal revenue and turns the sadness into a sudden and gnawing hunger so potent, he barely hears the mortician continue. "All zat I recall to be 'ow you say a clue is ze weapon itself; ze markings on the bullets suggest a small human piece adapted for ze smallest of hands, yis? Either it vas altered for a child, or a Chaotic."

Sonic looks up to see the man sit and fluff out a napkin, tucking a corner into his pyjama shirt collar. He expects the conclusion Schlemmer has come to, but still dislikes hearing it leave his lips as the hybrid Chaotic delicately cuts into his breakfast. "It wasn't the pet," the junior detective states with too much certainty to be logical, but if he noticed his host doesn't flinch, allowing his guest to continue as he leisurely chews the foreign fish. Sonic backtracks without encouraging Schlemmer to pry deeper. "I think it was political. The guy was hot on Chaotic rights, after all, right? Someone in opposition got him hit, killed or removed the pet and framed it on the poor soul. We need to find the gun, is all. Whoever has it is our main suspect."

"It may be destructed," the green-hued Chaotic comments as he swallows a bite, then points to Sonic's plate with his knife. "Zat zalmon eggs benedict von't stay warm forever, junior detectif. I can find sketches of potential weapons once you've eaten, hm?" Placing his cutlery down, Schlemmer takes the teapot in both hands, swirls it and begins to pour for them both. "Zere is being spent bullets in evidence though, if I am remembering correctly. At ze least you vill 'ave a comparison to use."

The azure has a response but it dies on his tongue beneath the subtle, delicate flavours on his fork. It's the first fish he's eaten that doesn't taste overwhelmingly of  _ fish _ ; not salty and oceany but light and delightful beneath the richer sauce and crunchy, buttered bread it sits upon. Instead of words, a small whimper escapes quivering lips and in his peripherals, his host sports a dorky, wonky-toothed grin. "Better than the schlembone, yis? It is foreign food from anozer continent. Ine mother of sorts vas an immigrant." He pauses to chew another bite, eyes closed as the lightest of sighs expels through his nose, then swallows. "Ze best cook. I can never be on ze same leveling, but the recipes remind me of zem. Alvays bittersweet, mm?"

Still unable to speak, Sonic's uttered hum in response is laced with embarrassingly real emotion. Thankfully, the elder doesn't comment but continues to eat his meal with slow and measured movements, exhibiting a level of manners the junior has never been privy to before. Feeling stupid and a touch common, Sonic continues eating in silence, letting flavour dance across his taste buds for as long as possible before wolfing down another bite. Even the tea is sublime, somehow floral and earthy still despite being cleaned and dried and brewed. He's still marveling at it as the mortician finishes up, dabbing his still immaculate chin with his impromptu bib. "Is there anyzing else? Or should I retrieve ze file?"

Sonic is about to dismiss the query when he remembers another question, though this one is a lot more personal even if it still regards Shadow and his case. With some toast still left he plays with it, feigning mopping up the excess sauce as he tries to find the right wording. "I guess… I'm a little concerned," he begins. A raised brow from the elder prompts him to elaborate, a heavy sigh passing his lips as he abandons the soggy toast and clasps fidgeting hands in his lap. It's a difficult query to phrase without implying his mentor is a bent cop. "You've known Shadow a long time. Do you worry about who he interacts with as informants or… business partners? Has he spoken about them at all…?"

He expects a reaction at least, a look of surprise or a knowing chuckle, but Schlemmer's expression remains neutral for a long moment afterwards. Daring to glance at him, Sonic notes a thin line of worry creasing his otherwise smooth brow. Then it's gone again, but so is the animated lilt of his voice as he gathers their plates and takes them to the sink. "Nine, he does not express to me anything related to vork. Not unless he's requiring a report." The hunched hybrid pauses at the sink to stare blankly at the tiles, lines of concern taking over his forehead once more. "I am avare some of his connections are dange-hairous, zat he covers some of zere crimes with the carpet. In ze beginning, I consider reporting him. But now he has done such good vork for Chaotics in the city, solved so many cases… it seems an adequvate price."

Suddenly the mortician smiles again, all sense of tension erased from his features. "Do not vorry for him, Zoneek. He knows vhat he is doing, mm?" He claps his hands together, the loud noise a shock after their quiet conversation. Sonic will never admit he jumped in his seat. "Perhaps if zis case of his is finally solved, he von't associate with questionables of ze streets, yis? I vill get ze file for you. Do not be moving now!" 

With an almost playful finger-waggle he heads to the mortuary, leaving Sonic to a whirlwind of thoughts. Of course Schlemmer knew. Very little escaped his notice, if his reports were anything to go by. The fact he's considered reporting it is also a comfort; whether it was professional duty or concern for Shadow aside, it meant this intelligent man had weighed his options and come to the same conclusion as the Detective. Close involvement with Infinite and the Squad had its implications and ramifications, but to Shadow it was worth the payoff.

_ And that is his decision to make, not mine... _

True to form, Schlemmer doesn't disappoint; he returns with an entire file of notes, schematics of a dozen firearms, sketches of each with the alterations he proposes could warp and scar the bullets as was seen in the case and a drawing of both spent and unspent ammo for the firearm before and after modification. On a separate sheet is a sketch of the actual bullets supposedly sent to evidence, along with the note that none of the potential guns seem to match exactly, but the mortician put it down to chance. Altering a firearm was not an exact science, after all. "Wow," the azure exclaims as he leaf's through the volume of hand-collated data. "Schlem, you shoulda been a detective. This is amazing."

"Nine, just doing ze job well," the old hybrid waves the praise off without thought. Sonic honestly can't tell if he believes that, or is simply bashful. "Fresh eyes may seeing vhat the detectif and I cannot." Retaking his seat, Schlemmer sips his tea in silence for a moment before adding offhandedly. "I 'ave copies of zose. You may be keeping them, mm? Do you not need to leave though?"

Emeralds blink confusedly, then scrunch up a sleeve to check the time. It almost gives him a heart attack to realise he's due at the office in less than twenty minutes and Sonic reacts accordingly, leaping from his seat and hastily scooping the papers back into the cardboard file. "Shads is going to  _ kill  _ me if I'm late," he says, entirely forgetting he's not even properly dressed for work as he calculates the fastest route back, thanking Chaos he's fit enough not to sweat profusely - if stress doesn't induce it, anyway. "It's been real Schlem, but I gotta run. Breakfast was super tasty! I'll drop by some other time with Shads about the notes, okay?"

Schlemmer watches the young hedgehog ramble, stumble over his own feet then sprint out the door without waiting for a reply, all the while sipping his tea.  _ He vill be back _ , he assures himself silently, faded eyes still on the open door and a quirked smile on his lips.  _ Zey always come back for the Schlembone. _

\--

Leaning against his car, Shadow takes a drag of his third cigarette of the morning, holding the burning smoke in his lungs a second before expelling it swiftly through his nostrils. He's been at the precinct for an hour after being woken for a meagre meal and asked respectfully to leave, so Chuck could lock up and get on a tram to his appointment. Had he been awake beforehand, the detective would have refused their rations to save them money, but with the watery oatmeal made and coffee already poured it had been politer to accept the offering. Asking where Sonic was he'd got a vague answer regarding morning runs, that the boy knew Chuck had an appointment and could let himself in if need be and breakfast over, Shadow was abruptly deposited outside with car keys in his hand and coffee half-finished in his grasp.

Perturbed but not petty enough to steal an old man's mug, he'd downed the remnants of his coffee, placed the ceramic on the home's doorstep and headed for work with a minor headache. In honesty, he'd expected to find Sonic there. Chuck thought he heard the boy leave at sunrise, three hours prior. No one in their right mind jogged for  _ three hours _ , right? Yet their office is empty and undisturbed, the file from yesterday untouched where he'd left it at the far end of his desk. He made a coffee and waited a while, until a check to confirm Sonic had ten minutes to show up had Shadow decide to wait outside, have a smoke and think.

Not much thinking happened. Still reeling from the kindness of near strangers, his dream and the young rabbit's compassion, his mind feels like steel wool wrapped in cotton. Thinking hurts, as little of the information makes logical sense. Had his dream been more accurate than perceived reality? Is Sonic playing his weaknesses for his own gain? Nothing truly suggests it so far but to force Shadow to stay at his home is more suspicious than it is altruistic, especially with his continued absence that morning. It isn't something the ebon wants to believe but that makes his head hurt even more; he could be betrayed, undermined and fed to the Commissioner on a silver platter for a promotion.

_ Has the jackal made me foolish, too quick to trust? _

The thought is interrupted by the hedgehog sprinting down the street, dressed for sports' day rather than work. The brown file under his arm draws the detective's attention, too; it's not from the office, a dull shade of beige indicative of Schlemmer's old stationary and appropriately stuffed with a mess of loose pages. The detective frowns as Sonic jogs obliviously past his boss and takes the steps to the front door, hunching over there to catch his breath presumably before entering. Knowing he went looking for clues alone and still sore in the ass department, Shadow takes a last drag of his gasper before flicking it to the curb with an irritated growl just loud enough to draw the azure's wide-eyed attention.

"What the hell are you wearing?" The words expelled with the smoke are as stifling as the noxious gas cloud they accompany into the morning air. Sonic stutters and stumbles his words, seemingly clutching the file tighter while tan lips refuse to make sense. Only angered further, the detective interjects with a snarl. "We've no time for idiocy today, hedgehog. Hans is a functioning addict, who sells more than he snorts and rises early to deal Infinite's cheapest shit. If we're not hasty we'll miss him. Worse still, if he has eyes on the house that see the police on his doorstep, he'll skip town by noon." 

Straightening up, he yanks the driver's side door open while maintaining eye contact, gaze hard and unyielding with distrust. "I don't want another dead lead, so get in the damn car. You can explain your early morning field trip on the way."


	15. Shady Recollection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories of years passed reveal more than expected, but not enough to satiate a hungry Junior Detective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! We're back with another chapter!  
> It took a little while, but she's a long girl, so I hope you enjoy. Don't forgot to drop a review!
> 
> Also, we have a Discord! We're small, friendly and full of crack ideas, spin-offs, art work and more. Come hang with us!
> 
> https://discord.gg/reCxjtm

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: SHADY RECOLLECTION**

The drive is quiet for all of two minutes before Shadow seems to lose his patience.  _ "Well?" _ he snaps at his Junior, a side-on glare that could kill at ten paces simmering in his eyes. His knuckles are so tight on the wheel, Sonic can see the flesh beneath dark fur turning pale. After the muted Shadow yesterday, having his fiery mentor back full force is a bit of a shock; Sonic stumbles to find words to explain without sounding like an ass until Shadow cuts him off. "I trusted you with private information," he seethes through grit teeth, hardly paying any attention to the road even though he continues to drive at the city limit. "And the first opportunity you get, you go behind my back to  _ investigate its validity?  _ I swear to Chaos, if it were up to me, I'd fire you on the spot for improper procedure and insubordination,  _ then-" _

"Hey, woah! Ease up on the gas, would ya?" He tries to diffuse the air with humour, only half-joking with how erratically his mentor is driving. Sonic raises his hands defensively and states a truth he'd hoped to bypass when handing over the mortician's observations. "Listen, I didn't go to Schlemmer to get dirt on you, I went to ask about the case again. Not that I don't believe he put everything in his report, but that something slipped his mind. You said he got sick, right?" His mentor bites back a growl, but a whisper of it still slips from clenched teeth. Trying not to swallow too hard, Sonic continues. "The autopsy in your case is neat but thin, while the one he gave us for the dead pup is like, the exact opposite. I just wanted to pick his brains and see if he remembered anything useful, stayed for some tea-"

"Tea?" Shadow sputters, jerking the brakes reflexively enough to jar him forward. The younger hedgehog yelps, pressing his hand to the interior metalwork of the door to steady himself before he flies into the windscreen. The concern flooding his mentor's features now feels entirely unwarranted, as does the tension in each following syllable. "You stayed for  _ tea?" _

The azure blinks, unsure why his mentor has responded in such a dramatic way. "Yes, breakfast and tea." When Shadow doesn't seem any less relaxed, he decides to clarify. "You know, hot leaf water? The same stuff he offered you in the morgue? Loose leaf tea?" Concern becomes relief, dark fingers flexing on the wheel, but Sonic can't help feeling like he's missed something. "For real Shads, why all stiff and snippy? It's just tea-"

"Forget it," his mentor interrupts, voice a touch weak despite the conviction in those few words. His eyes are back on the road in a moment as the truth, that it  _ was  _ just tea, and not a euphemism for something far more intimate. There's a reason Shadow isn't inclined to accept that offer from the Professor and it wasn't just his disgusting leaf blends. "The badger we're about to bring in is a slippery son of a bitch," he deflects, focusing back on the case as he fishes in a pocket for his freshly filled hip flask. "He's been avoiding arrest for decades and knows how to agitate. So don't give him intel on the case, let me do the talking until we get him down to HQ and  _ don't  _ object to his release. Infinite will want a swing for his dead pup. Understand?"

Barely able to believe they're handing another suspect over to the jackal, Sonic's mouth hangs agape a moment before he huffs and sits back in the passenger seat, arms folded over his chest. There's no point arguing. He's learned that already. "Yeah, yeah. Sit back and do nothing while you do police work, so the usual." He notes a tired, crimson glance in his peripherals and straightens slightly. "Look, I get it. I'm not a real cop yet. I know there's protocol to follow and papers to get filled before I take lead on anything. I respect you got rules to follow, but I ain't learnin' much hiding out behind your badge, Shadow. I need to get the adrenaline buzz, feel like I'm _in_ _the zone_ and got people depending on me. You get that, right?"

"I do." 

The reply is soft, nearly whispered as he unscrews his flask with one hand and takes a hit. The whiskey is cold, having spent most of the morning in the chill spring air against his low body heat, but the alcoholic burn still warms Shadow's insides and focuses his mind. "You get one chance," he adds, his gaze sobering even as the azure's excitement bubbles over into a nervous grin as they pull up outside a grubby apartment block. It grows wider as Shadow reaches into his jacket, then offers the youngster his badge. Sonic takes it, though it isn't relinquished immediately, a firm tug from the ebon to garner the youngster's full attention. "Bring Hans in and work him over with me. If I like what you do, we'll see about getting you a side case. Fuck up, we do it my way until next year's review. Think you can handle all that pressure, Junior Detective?" 

"Never been more ready," Sonic chirps. Finally, Shadow lets go of the badge, watching silently as the excitable Junior traces the leather-mounted metal like a child with a new toy. He hasn't let another take his badge since he got it, not even on mandated leave or bed rest for injury. It feels like he's handed not only his badge, but his future career to the cheerful soul tucking it into a breast pocket and can only hope he hasn't jumped the gun by trusting him too soon. "Hey Shads?" It's a tentative question as Shadow prepares to play second to his protogé, fishing out his firearm from beneath the seat. Assuming it's something about if he needs the firearm too - handing an untrained Junior a loaded firearm would be a cardinal sin to his superiors, so he's ready to refuse - slips it into his belt with a low grunt. "So I was reviewing the Robotnik file after you fell asleep, looking for holes and such for possible leads or you know, something we mighta missed and, well… Just, there's a gap...

"Three years, I think? A long time between the murders and you becoming a cop..." He dares a glance at Shadow, but unable to read his mentor's mental state ends up looking at his fingers, silently cursing his own cowardice. "Were you part of the gang? I assume it didn't come free. So you say you owe him… What? Is it money? Resources? Or is he blackmailing you-?"

"You're a nosy bastard, aren't you?" Sonic freezes up with the accusation, but there's no malice or distaste in it. Beside him, the detective fishes a gasper from his coat and pauses to light it, taking a few puffs to stabilise his ever-present shake. "What I tell you doesn't leave this car, understand?" Crimson orbs lock with emeralds, their intensity stilling the youngster before he can nod his head. "I mean it, boy. This shit stays between you, me and old Nicole here. No telling your folks, your little fox friend or the journal you keep under your mattress. This  _ would _ end my career and could very well cost me my  _ life.  _ It  _ dies  _ with you, am I  _ clear?" _

The azure in his passenger seat looks suddenly nauseated, flesh pale beneath vibrant fur as he nods in purposeful understanding of the weight of the information he's about to receive. Shadow still isn't too sure he can trust the kid. He seems to be taking his role in their unofficial case seriously enough, but he's flighty and impulsive, desperate for validation. Hoping the hedgehog has at least enough integrity not to sell him out for a pat on the back from Eggman, he takes a stalling drag from his cigarette, a hand clenched into a fist on the wheel. "It's complicated," he iterates the sentiment from their last discussion again, smoke billowing out of his mouth and nostrils, crimson orbs locked blankly ahead on the house they've come to visit. "But the pivotal discussion happened around six months after I was conscripted…"

\--

_ Even with his information, the Squad's expansion into Shadow's old territory has been slow; six months since being picked up and they've barely gained any footing, spending most of the time on arranging steady income routes. Protection rackets for the local businesses fed up with strong-arm tactics, contacting the dealers and addicts to temp with better prices or finer product, but most importantly weeding out the lone sharks, opportunists and other gangs' scouts. Many are misinformed the kingpin of the Squad is a coward and a joke, but while he's less heavy-handed than the Beast ever was Infinite has been making waves for himself with the ebon's intel these last few months and finally, the streets are paying attention. _

_ For his part, Shadow ran dry of useful knowledge a week ago. He hoped that meant he'd be allowed to leave, but instead he's had a week to watch the gang function from the sidelines. Forced to follow the aging jackal all day but refusing to take part in their nightly poker tournaments or drink the foul liquor Gray brews in an old tub out back, he broods in the corner instead. In sight to avoid being reprimanded or clipped around an ear, but an abject irritation contorting his features into a killer grimace. He's made it perfectly clear at every opportunity he's not interested in being a permanent fixture at the Den, as an active Squad member or a begrudging accessory.  _

_ The week of nothing has been a mockery of that opinion, leaving the hedgehog pissed and irritable. Being summoned by the gang boss does nothing to lighten his mood either. He's being treated like a pawn on a chess board; commanded to do what the game master desires without respect for his own identity. A nameless, disposable front man, just like his underlings.  _

_ When saying he's busy gets him hauled to his feet and forcefully marched to the jackal's outdoor office, Shadow squirms to free himself of the clawed grip Gray has on his shoulder with a growl. "I can walk by myself," the hedgehog informs, ripping the hand from flesh without regard for the other's resistance nor the sting of claw marks it leaves on his own skin. The elder curls a lip with irritation, low warning rumble in his throat a daily occurrence Shadow has become desensitised to over the months of living at this man's stubby tail. "This better be a debrief and release too. It's been a damn week! Following your ass around Camp Jackal is a waste of my fucking time-" _

_ He grunts as he's thrown into the annex wall, second-hand shirt fisted by the angry, greying canid looming over him with fangs glinting in the moonlight. "The boss migh' think yer got uses left in yer, but all I see's a disobedient pup," Gray spits out, captive forced to flinch away to avoid getting saliva in his eyes. Shadow grabs at the wrist holding him to the wall but doesn't bother to fight the grasp, well aware Gray could kill him in less time than it took to wipe after a shit. "So you better get tha' temper o'yours reigned in, before Infinite sets me th'task of tamin' you like I did th'boys we left playin' hands. Or I'll take yer fingers, one by one, stick 'em in the mangle an'-" _

_ " _ **_Gray_ ** _." _

_ Without needing further instruction, the elder releases his prey and takes a step back, always obedient to the order of his boss. His stare is murderous though; jaw so tight his teeth clack, faded ambers hard and incessantly boring into Shadow's earthly soul. Then he turns away, ears cast back and eyes lowered. Had he an actual tail, it would be dragging in the dirt. "Pardon my temper, Boss, it's been an 'ard week, with th'new boys gettin' settled an' roughin' up those bastards down Main Street." A glance back at Shadow over a shoulder, stare so cold it freezes his spine. "Yer pet 'ere got mouthy, so I was teachin' him some manners-" _

_ "Disciplining the hedgehog isn't your responsibility." His words may be reasonable, but Infinite's tone is laced with annoyance. The elder lowers his head slightly but doesn't respond, not even a word in his own defence. Surprisingly, there isn't any fear in his body language, only obedience that translates to unanticipated respect and loyalty. "You're dismissed," the young jackal states, fishing in his pocket for a smoke in the chill evening air. Shadow suddenly becomes very aware of how cold it is lacking a coat or suit jacket, but suppresses the shiver should it be misconstrued as anxiety when Gray utters a quiet 'Yes, Sir' and heads back in.  _

_ Left alone with Infinite in the cold, the hedgehog stays silent as the gangster lights the gasper and takes a puff, stress obviously being released with a lungful of hot smoke Shadow wishes were his instead. He avoided the habit for months, even as the Squad merrily burnt their pay every day, but as the winter settled in a month ago and the drafty Den began to reek of wet dog thanks to the rain, it was both a way to keep warm and preferable to the smell of soaked fur. When Infinite offers a cigarette though, he snorts a refusal, very aware the addictive sticks are basically currency in the gang and not wanting to be indebted any further. "Just tell me we're done, so I can go," he huffs as his fingers itch for a drag. "There's nothing more to give you. Why am I still here?" _

_ "We're not done," the jackal states blandly between puffs, gaze fixed on the twitchy hedgehog even before the statement draws him back, mismatched irises penetrating and intrusive. Shadow can tell why others feared the gangster boss; he can be intense one moment then unnaturally calm the next, silent stare chilling his blood even without the jagged scar across a piercing blue eye or the mob of obedient underlings. He's used to being obeyed, to whoever he wants do his bidding dance like a puppet. It's made him arrogant. Shadow growls with irritation, regardless of the consequences of voicing abject displeasure. He's had enough of following other Squad members like a lost dog. _

_ Rather than reprimand him through, Infinite huffs humorlessly. "Come inside."  _

_ Not an invitation, an order. He looks away from the ebon for a final drag of his cigarette before flicking the stub away, turning with his tail held just above sweeping through the dirt. He doesn't bother meeting Shadow's gaze now, unlocking his office and heading inside without another word. Just walking away crosses the hedgehog's mind in that moment, but the lure of warmth and perhaps the offer of a smoke he won't disregard so foolishly a second time draw him forward rather than away, into the old shack constructed on the side of an even older outhouse and closing the heavily rusted door behind him. _

_ The shack smells as bad as the Den; all sodden fur and gaspers. Pathetic as it sounds, for Shadow it's almost reassuring by now. He's well aware after months of watching the Squad tick over, the constant flow of boys returning with injuries that range from small nicks of a blade to fatal gunshots, he'd be long dead by now even if he hadn't starved. Station Square's Old Quarter is a dangerous part of the city, even more when you're trying to establish a foothold in another district. Regardless of foul odours and aggressive right hand, Shadow already owes this jackal his life a dozen times over.  _ That's why I'm still here,  _ he realises. Dark brows furrow as he glances around the shack.  _ He's collecting on his investment, but what does he hope to collect from me?

_ More than a simple office, the outhouse may as well be Infinite's apartment. Behind his desk, a divider obscures the messy pile of blankets and cushions the gangster calls bed, though to Shadow it more resembles a nest. Papers litter the floor, soaking up the excess moisture from a leaky roof and the compacted dirt floor, including some more questionable stains the ebon decides not to look too closely at. In the corner, a bundle of blankets he'd spent his first night in remain untouched. He absently wonders if Gray lost his composure when his highly-targeted boss let a ragged stray sleep in the outhouse where he slept, entirely vulnerable should Shadow have been a plant, until a harsh cough drags his attention back to Infinite.  _

_ The jackal has already taken a seat at his desk and is digging in a desk drawer for something. Shadow doesn't move, waiting to be told exactly what Infinite wants from him and sent on his way. He assumes the gangster is searching for a file, paper on which to write an order or something else just as trivial, so a dark brow rises in question when the canid returns not with pen and paper but two old, chipped tumblers and a decanter of amber liquid. _

_ "Sit." Another order, but one Shadow doesn't expect. The empty chair was for clients and deals, not to discuss debts to be repaid. Most were lucky not to have Gray's claws in their neck while they tried not to piss themselves if a debt was due, left to stand and stew by the door rather than offered a seat. Shadow hasn't seen a deal go down before, only watched intimidations, but he assumes the alcohol was reserved for business transactions, not a simple investment discussion. He doesn't understand, thoughts causing him to hesitate, which seems to irk the jackal; he growls, flashing fangs as he uncaps the decanter. "I said  _ **_sit_ ** _ , hedgehog. Are you deaf?" _

_ He sits, though with some trepidation, sharp crimsons locked on the gangster as he pours a measure of the sharp alcohol in each glass and recaps the glass container. Suspicious and on edge, ebon quills flex against the chair and claws dug into his palms, nervous nausea roils in his guts when Infinite pushes the glass closest across the desk and motions for him to drink. Infinite has a sip himself then sets the tumbler down, fingers entwining as he leans upon the desk. "Gray tells me you're still trying to chase that murder of yours," he states quietly. Ruby irises snap up to meet dichromatic, interest piqued by the mention of his case but wary of why the canid cares. "Not to curb your enthusiasm, but you'll get nothing useful from beating the Chaotic trash we pick up. You're wasting your time." _

_ Shadow hasn't touched his drink, nor does he intend to if this is about dropping their deaths for a life in the Squad. He growls, a scrunch of the muzzle and narrowing of sharp eyes. "It's my time to waste how I see fit. In other words, none of your business." He accentuates the point by pushing the scotch back so hard, a little spills over onto the desk. "If this is an attempt at convincing me to drop it and join the Squad, you're wasting  _ **_both_ ** _ our time. I've no desire to become your errand boy." A smirk creeps onto the jackal's muzzle and angered, Shadow abruptly stands. "I'm not interested in anything you have to offer. I'll see myself out." _

_ "Even if what I offered assists you?"  _

_ The ebon pauses, a hand still on the back of the chair and an ear turned toward Infinite in curiosity. Smug smile widening so far on his muzzle it's audible in his tone. "I thought that might get your attention," the gangster states. Shadow looks back to see him taking a sip of his whiskey, mismatched irises locked on his over the lip of his tumbler. A hum of appreciation as he lowers it, nodding to the recently vacated chair opposite as a claw taps on his glass. "Now sit, Shadow. It's rude to conduct business over a shoulder, especially after being offered a smoke and a drink." _

_ Shadow hesitates trying to smell bullshit through all the wet dog and smoke, but can't seem to detect any. The knowing smirk still stretching the other's usually frowning lips are a concern; Infinite finds something amusing and likely not his definitive refusal. He hasn't submitted to being a Squad body before and has no plans to do so. To incite humour in the canid, it must involve a deal to stay connected with Infinite and his minions, but if a deal could catch the man who killed his family? That's a moral quandary he may just overlook. "This better not be bullshit," he mutters, slow to retake his seat as the gangster pushes the glass back towards him. Shadow doesn't take it though; he finds the liquid too harsh to stomach. He meets the canid's gaze with stubborn confidence even as his insides quiver, the mention of his family bringing the most recent nightmares to mind.  _

_ "So what do you want, jackal?" _

_ \-- _

On the edge of his seat, Sonic feels like he might explode when Shadow pauses for a leisurely drag on his gasper and impatiently blurts out: "So what'd he want? He get you the job so you'd pay him? Is there like, even a _value_ or is he milking you for all he can?" It's disturbing to see his mentor's lips curl in a smile until a chuckle bubbles from the usually stoic hedgehog's throat so unexpectedly, it quiets the spewed questions long enough for Shadow to flick his cigarette butt away and get out of the car. The slam of his door jerks Sonic back to reality and he scrambles to follow. "Wait! You can't just leave me hanging like that! What'd he want? And what's so _funny_?" 

The question only makes him chuckle more, until the vibrations trigger a short coughing fit, silencing them both as the detective recovers. Sonic tries not to keep the worry off his features as his mentor hacks up a hunk of phlegm and spits it into a bush. "First and foremost," Shadow begins, tone low and gravelly, pausing to sip from his flask to soothe his throat. "I told you it stayed in the car, so shut your trap." Azure ears fold slightly while he drinks, recaps the bottle and slips it into an inside pocket. "Second, it's nothing to concern yourself with now. Or did you forget we've a dealer to interrogate? Story time will resume later, as we write up whatever bullshit he tries to feed us."

Azure ears perk at being reminded of their current mission and excitement buzzes through his core, the badge hot in his pocket. "Right! Leave it to me!" With that he jogs up the path without waiting for his mentor, stopping on the doorstep to straighten his tie and fluff his lapels. He hears Shadow quietly scoff at him but Sonic doesn't care; this is his first arrest and he wants to be as proper and perfect about it as possible. That means dressed to impress, confident from ear tips to dew claws as he knocks on the door and ready to knock harder, declare their presence or even kick in the lock if ignored, so when the door stutters an inch open beneath his fist the Junior deflates. Placing his palm on the wood, the azure pushes the door open and takes a step across the threshold as Shadow draws his pistol in his peripheral vision, his tone now uncertain. "Hans…? We're from the-"

Hans' home is more of a granny annex, a simple yet large room in which is everything but the sink and toilet, but that's not the most pertinent observation to make. He hears Shadow curse as if inside a bubble, but smells permeating his senses assure Sonic that isn't the case; the air is thick with the scent of putrification stemming from what made the Detective swear. The bloated body hanging off a dirty mattress, sour scent of death radiating from the decomposing corpse of Hans the Badger. His sheets are crusted near-black with dry blood, a pool of the previously thick substance congealed on floorboards beneath the sagging form, the glassy-eyed badger's stiff hand locked around the handle of a firearm slumped in the crusty puddle of his own blood.

He feels dizzy and immensely sick, barely able to stand upright as the edge of his vision darkens. Bile bubbles in his gut, ready to force its way up his gullet. A firm hand grabs Sonic's shoulder and turns him around, pushing him up against the porch railing just in time for the salmon eggs benedict's encore, splattering all over the dead vegetation and wilted plants below. Sonic writhes against that fence, at one point doubled over and gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles turn white, unable to feel the slow, firm rub between his shoulder blades. Left gasping for breath and gagging on the taste of salmon, the young junior spits out a mouthful of orange-tinged saliva and weakly straightens, though not daring to let go of the fence as his knees feel like jelly.

He doesn't realise someone had been rubbing his back until the hand retracts. An exhausted glance to the side reveals Shadow offering his hip flask but even as Sonic silently refuses, the ebon insists. "Don't swallow it. Gargle and spit. It'll kill the acid taste." Hesitantly, Sonic takes the flask and has a swig, screwing his face up against the disgustingly bitter taste to gargle and spit it into the grass. It does clear the taste of vomit though, for which he's grateful. Not that he can verbalise it before Shadow passes him the car keys, takes his camera and resumes usual asshole mode. 

"Since you can't stomach it, drive to Shlemmer and tell him he'll need to get a slab clear for this one. We can't let Hans putrify much more, or we'll lose evidence." He pauses and hangs the camera around his neck, not noticing the look of anxiety his less than delicate handling of the device causes the azure as he turns back to the crime scene. "Then get your ass back here and pick me up. We'll get these photographs in for development, write up a report and look over what the old coot gave you on my case."

Then Shadow is gone, business as usual, and Sonic can't fathom how many decomposing bodies it must take to leave an officer so unaffected by the stench of death.


	16. Musical Murders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story time resumes, and something sparks Shadow into action. Let's hope it wasn't the bacon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter? In two days. Well shit you're welcome. Spoilt assholes. Come join the discord and be even more spoilt with extra shit.
> 
> https://discord.gg/reCxjtm

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: MUSICAL MURDERS**

His junior still looking pale hours later the Detective had tried to send him home, only to gain a newfound respect for the sickly rookie when he refused and offered to get lunch for them both. "A walk'll clear it right up," Sonic had said, shrugging on his coat with more enthusiasm than his pale pallor would suggest. Then he was gone, his closing statement dumb enough to drag a humorless snort from his peer. "See ya! Don't go solving nothing without me, though!" The door had closed, only to pop back open an inch and Shadow had to admit, the azure looked a touch better already. "You still owe me the rest of that story, Shads. I ain't forgotten. I buy and you spill, yeah?"

Shadow had tisked and cast his eyes back to his report, but had demanded bacon in his sandwich roll as an indicator he agreed to the junior's terms. He'd been hoping to play it off behind the interrogation and paperwork that followed, but with Hans dead, no obvious leads to follow and Sonic being woefully unprepared for his first decaying cadaver, he felt sorry enough for the boy to humour him.  _ He's going to find out eventually… may as well be from me rather than a third party. I hope heart attacks don't run in the family… _

As for the case, the pieces are slotting together, but Shadow doesn't like the picture they're creating. He taps a claw restlessly on his mug and stares down at his report with suspicious eyes, as if it were lying to him, offering false threads of possibility he could never wish to acknowledge. Absently, he tries to take a sip of coffee and curses when he finds the mug empty, slamming it back on the desk and instead rifling through his jacket pockets for a smoke. Ebon fingers shake as he lights up and takes a deep drag of soothing nicotine. Resting back in his chair as his nostrils fill the former file room with thick smoke, he closes his eyes for a moment and clears his thoughts, mentally pulling the string of clues and events together.

Monday, the pup turns up dead, a puncture wound between his pads. In another case, he'd assume the kid got overzealous with the potency of his next hit and killed himself by accident, leaving his suspicious drowning to be a horrible accident. Except this kid was one of Infinite's. The jackal aborres drug use. An oxymoron for a supplier, but it means he doesn't tolerate his boys getting off on the product. That would open up a window for suspicion on Infinite himself if he hadn't been so angry the boy was dead.  _ No, the pup was definitely murdered. The red panda confessed. _

Tuesday, the Squad pick up the panda, who admits to drugging and drowning the pup. Shadow has no doubt the man is lying in a ditch in Nack's territory right now, waiting to be called into the station. The problem lies in him and Hans the badger, the man who supposedly hired them to make the hit. They were told to keep all the drugs they got from the raid, meaning he was set to gain nothing from the exchange; if anything, he'd have known it was as good as signing his own death warrant. Infinite would see Hans given enough mercy to prolong his suffering before putting him down personally.  _ Why do something so idiotic? _

He knows the answer, but he doesn't like it. Dull crimson irises crack open and stare at the ceiling, the yellowed discolouration of the plaster not registering as he takes another drag. The only reason a dealer turns on a supplier is a better offer, and in this case it was an offer sealed with blood; the blood of a young pup running drugs alone because Infinite trusted his buyer.  _ Except it didn't work out for you, did it Hans? _ He expels the smoke quickly through his nostrils as he sits up, eyes cast back to the report on his desk.  _ You got hooked with a better offer, but rather than get your hands dirty shifted Infinite's stock onto some tweakers for free, so they'd do it for you. Good thing your new supplier didn't know, or we might have been left high and dry for leads. _

Wednesday, they find Hans' body. He's waiting for confirmation from Schlemmer but if he had to guess, Shadow would say he'd been dead at least three days, if not more. The confounding fact is that's before the pup's body was reported in the paper. The perpetrator surely would have waited for his crime to be printed and be sure Hans followed through then taken the old badger out. Even three days is too long ago, and this is where threads also start to get tangled in. Shadow thinks he's stretching the evidence, but until he gets an autopsy and Schlemmer's opinion all he has in conjecture. It takes little imagination to picture how it could have gone down though.  _ Hans went to bed, but woke after hearing a noise in the dark. He moves slowly in the hope an assassin won't notice, extracts a firearm from his side table and throws off his covers when- _

A single, clean shot, executioner style. Right between the eyes. He'd died instantly and slumped forwards, ending up draped off the mattress with his death-gripped gun hand resting where he would bleed out uselessly on the discarded sheets and wooden slats below. It isn't the gruesome scene that has the detective so wound up but rather the method used; a single gunshot at fairly close range, nothing stolen but the pitiful house torn apart like the killer was looking for something.  _ Most likely drugs, but the similarities are uncanny. I should go back to check for attempted arson. If I can find  _ **_that_ ** _ - _

"Hey Shads!"

Irises set aglow by the cigarette smoldering between his lips, he fixes his junior with a withering stare. "I told you not to call me that," he states uselessly, knowing full well the hedgehog cannot be dissuaded but hoping it raises his mood. In addition, it seems the walk did Sonic a world of good; there's colour in his cheeks and a bounce in his step, so much even Shadow might think the cadaver had been a dream.  _ But it wasn't, _ he reminds himself as he locates a request penned while Sonic was gone, attaching it to Hans' case file with a paperclip as the azure hangs his coat sheepishly by the door. The smirk on that peach muzzle says he didn't take the reprimand to heart, thankfully. "One last job before we eat," the Detective states, holding the file out to his Junior. "Drop that on Towers' desk and make sure he knows the request is urgent. I want access to the Robotnik evidence before the day ends, understand?"

Sonic takes the file, pausing to read the scrawled request with a confused look on his muzzle. "But it's your case, right? Don't you have access to it already?" Another pause as he fingers the file. "Is this about the stuff Schlem sent over? The bullets…?"

Having finished his report some time ago, Shadow had skimmed the mortician's report over a fresh coffee. It'd been the preface that reminded the Chaotic of the similarities between this case and another; the firearms listed, the proposed alterations to the barrels that could create such a bullet and sketches of the guns after alteration. There was a sketch of a spent bullet also, but it's admitted this is drawn from memory and is likely inaccurate - an assertion Shadow had snorted at, given the professor's perfect recollection. Even so, it looks remarkably familiar, enough so the ebon wants a second look at those kept in evidence. He'd tried not to think how his own altered pistol was in that list while he penned the request. "It's a cold case," he informs his protogé, already reaching for the closest sandwich, the smell of bacon making his mouth water. "It's withdrawal has to be documented, so a request is needed. Now hurry up, before your lunch is cold and I decide storytime is over for the day."

He leaves fast, a smoke cloud seeming to encompass where he stood not a moment ago before it shifts to fill the space. With a light huff and the faintest of smiles on tan lips, Shadow unwraps his lunch and takes a bite of hot, fatty goodness. For all his sins since leaving a Human household, the ebon always wondered what his family must think of his decisions and associations, but knows his family would look kindly on Sonic, at least.

_ He's a good kid; you'd have liked him, Maria. _

\--

_ "What do you want, jackal?" _

_ Infinite snorts and leans back lazily, arm stretched upon his desk to where he taps a claw against his glass. "You're so paranoid," he states, mismatched eyes never leaving crimson, but when he doesn't rise to the insult sighs and continues. "We've more in common than you realise,  _ **_hedgehog_ ** _." He uses his species back on purpose and is satisfied when Shadow's ears droop slightly. "I'm not proposing a debt, but rather a way to return what has already been given. After all, every member of my Squad is an investment, not a disposable commodity." _

_"I'm not a Squad member," Shadow growls through grit teeth, a nanosecond from simply walking out. But he's intrigued; it's the most he's ever heard the jackal say and is more articulate than his underlings, using the vocabulary and sentence structure of an educated Chaotic._ _The ebon tucks that observation away and scowls, folding his arms. Now isn't the time to satisfy suspicions, not when this proposition might see him free of the dingy Den. His tone is curious and his words sincere, even if his body language is as closed to suggestions as physically possible. "I'm listening, so tell me; what do you think we have in common?"_

_ The gangster takes a leisurely drink before he replies. "We've got cases we want dealt with, though mine is… more complicated." An ebon ear perks at the mention of a 'case', but stays quiet to let Infinite continue. "Like I said, you've no hope of getting useful intelligence on any murder from street trash. You need access to better resources, and clout behind you to get them talking."  _

_ A small smirk plays on monochromatic lips as the jackal leans closer. Shadow will never admit it, but in that moment he felt a little unnerved. This was a gangster becoming known for ripping out the throats of his adversaries, after all. Even if this business proposition is nothing more scandalous, there's no guarantee if he refuses that Infinite will let him leave by his own accord. "You would appreciate having authority, I assume?" The words and low tone draws his attention back to the jackal, for though Shadow never looked away, his focus had waned. "The ability to push scum floating in the city streets around without ending up in the slammer sounds nice, right? I can help you with that." _

_ Shadow doesn't respond immediately, waiting for a clause to get aired, but the jackal seems willing to wait for his own thoughts. The silence is thick and uneasy, the hedgehog's recently wasted intellect grasping at threads of possibility and assumption. This was a mob boss, a glorified street rat with a pack of lessers in his claws, yet he talks as if he can work others like a puppeteer. Not willing to acknowledge he may be the most recent of these, his quills bristle. Such a suggestion is asinine not just because of the scale of work that needed to be done, but coupled with past refusals to cooperate would likely be a waste of Squad time and resources. _

_ "An outlandish suggestion," Shadow states through grit teeth, not bothering to play down his vocabulary as he would in Gray's company. Infinite was unlikely to swat him for verbosity if he too was speaking with such flourish. He leans forward, close enough to smell the scotch on the jackal's breath and resting his arms on the table between them. Infinite may have a reputation, but the ebon refuses to fear it. "But unlike your lackeys, I'm not a moron. You suggest installing me within the SSPD, yet what do you gain from helping me? There's far more to lose should I go rogue and turn you in-" _

_ "Shadow," he addresses formally, an unusual occurrence that doesn't go unnoticed. Dark ears perk intently. "You're sharp, but incredibly short-sighted."  _

_He growls as Infinite sits back with a chuckle, a smirk on his pale muzzle. "What I'm suggesting isn't a short-term arrangement, but a partnership. Authentic-looking IDs and Free papers don't come cheap, and you'll need both to pass a plod interview when_ _they allow Chaotics to apply. Those, plus boarding until you're earning enough to get your own place, clothes, food, physical training… That's a heavy investment for me."_

_ Tan lips curl in distaste at the suggestion, flashing sharp fangs. "I don't  _ **_want_ ** _ your investment," he states sharply, growing more irritated when Infinite doesn't even flinch. "I'll get information on my own, if you're going to suggest hot bullshit. There's never been a Chaotic in law enforcement and there never  _ **_will_ ** _ be, not now the Professor-" Catching himself off guard, Shadow chokes on his rant and pauses, mouth still agape and breaths heavy as his claws curl against the desk. While it took time, Gerald came to believe in Chaotic equality. It'd been the day before they were due to meet with the Governor of State when the fire took hold. _

_ "He's dead," the ebon mutters. Suddenly deflated, he uncurls his claws from the desk and slowly retakes his seat. "The Professor was about to endorse Freedom, education and employment for Chaotics when he died. Without him, there's no chance." _

_ Infinite tuts and finishes his drink, then reaches into a pocket for his smokes. "Short-sighted," the jackal repeats, cracking the lid of the carton and holding it out to Shadow. He takes one without hesitation this time, hands shaking as he cups the tip and sparks up his first cig in two days. Hot smoke fills his lungs and satiates a craving the hedgehog has been struggling with for a month now, an addiction to stale air and smoke clearing his mind as the jackal continues. "This Owner of yours might have expedited the process, but you're only bound by limitations Humanity creates when you  _ **_allow_ ** _ yourself to be;  _ **_they_ ** _ may make rules, but rules are made to be  _ **_broken_ ** _." _

_ He glances up to see the gangster tuck his gaspers away without having one himself, dichromats never leaving ruby irises as the monologue continues. "So I'll get you papers. You'll get a job in the SSPD, get promoted fast to gain access to your Professor's case. In return," not willing to waste good liquor, Infinite takes a moment to return the untouched drink to his decanter with care. The glasses were clean so if he finished the batch within a week, it won't go foul. "There's a murder case, a human called Jackson Geoffry, the department revisits every year. I want it buried. You do that, we're square." _

_ "That's it?" Shadow doesn't believe it to be so simple, suspicion rising as fast as his hackles. His mind can only think of how this could be a hook to keep him under a claw, but can't discern any obvious red flags. It just seems too simple. "Just bury a case and we're done? I can walk away?" _

_ "If you want," the gangster shrugs, absently turning his empty tumbler on the desk between then. The light  _ **_clink_ ** _ of glass under his claws is as satisfying as it is risky, as the numerous scratches exhibited on its surface confirm. "When we're through, if it's as mutually beneficial, there are always other lines of business to pursue. It never hurts to have a toe inside law enforcement." _

_ Shadow scoffs and takes another drag of his cig, hand becoming steadier with each puff. "Fuck that. One deal with the devil a lifetime is plenty." He doesn't put much weight in his words, tone almost joking, but the hand that reaches across the desk is real and sobering. It hangs there as he tracks up the monochromatic arm to a toothy grin and a sense of unease creeps up his spine. Beneath the confident stare that only amplifies as he shakes the hand as firmly as he can, Shadow can feel his arm wrenched up and down by the stronger gangster, who adds in a teasing tone as their deal concludes: _

_ "Pleasure doing business with you,  _ **_Detective_ ** _." _

_ \-- _

Silence hangs in the air as Sonic contemplates the information, his sandwich half-finished where he'd become too engrossed to remember to eat. The bacon is cool and the salad is warm, but it doesn't matter. Not in the wake of the truth. Shadow looks very uncomfortable as he excuses himself for a fresh mug of coffee, quills twitching with poorly disguised emotional irritation. Then the door shuts behind him softly and the whole world quakes inside that office, the weight of that memory, of being entrusted with such details, finally punching Sonic hard enough in the gut to double him over and bringing on a wave of indigestion.

Every word in the statement incriminated his mentor; his false Free papers, his fake ID, perverting justice for a man's murder - a crime Infinite was surely responsible for - in exchange. Nothing in his testimony was innocent and Sonic can only thank Chaos no one overheard their conversation, or Shadow would be on a boat to Prison Island by sunrise tomorrow.  _ Even if coerced in the beginning, it's been two decades. There's no way to claim there was no choice. With his record, the crimes he's solved, the many lives he's saved and criminals brought to justice… they wouldn't have thrown him under the bus if he'd said something, surely? _

He wants to believe their coworkers would take pity on the first Chaotic detective, that they'd rally to get real papers and help in solving his case. Three days ago, he was still naive enough that he'd have believed the pantomime of working towards equality. Today, he's not. He can see why Shadow hasn't come clean with the department, can see why he accepted the offer because of a lack of options and even how it continued despite an adamant refusal back then to do so. The police department cared for the ebony hedgehog no more than the general public; he's a token to satisfy the press and political pressures of equality, likely easy enough to discard if they wanted. 

_ Maybe they would've, if he weren't actually good at his job. All this time I assumed Infinite was using him, but no. They're both mutually invested in their… Relationship? Does that mean Shads stayed with the SSPD just to solve his case? What happens when it's over…? _

The door slams open, startling the introspective hedgehog back to reality so abruptly his sandwich takes a flying leap onto the floor. He doesn't really care though, not as he watches Shadow recover his jacket and begin stuffing his pockets with his effects. Apparently oblivious to the azure he left waiting on his return, Sonic feels like a lost shoe when his mentor pauses to shakily light another cigarette, cursing and shaking his lighter when it refuses to catch. Breathing harshly and quills raised, when the gasper catches Shadow drops the light unceremoniously to the desk and stoops to take a long drag, frame almost shaking. Had he not sported a killer scowl, Sonic would think he was crying. "Shads?" The tentative question is met with raised hackles, and Sonic lowers his voice. "Are you o-"

"Do I  _ look _ fucking okay?" The detective snaps back, irises aflame in the dark, smoky room. Beneath that piercing stare, Sonic can only gulp and shake his head, but his silence seems to anger his supervisor even more. "Jesus Christ, grow a back bone," he snarls without provocation, barely pausing to breathe another lungful of toxins before berating the youngster, cigarette held between tan lips as he shrugs his coat on. "Why the fuck are you still sat there? Lose a few brain cells while I was gone? Get your shit together, for Christ's sake. We've got work to do."

Not willing to test his luck asking questions about his sudden anger, Sonic scrambles to obey, hat already sitting between his ears before he pulls on his blazer and jacket. "Aren't we waitin' on the photos from Hans' case, though?" When the ebon takes another deep drag but doesn't answer the question, the azure pushes a little harder. "I mean, sure we could go see Schlemmer, get a head start on the autopsy, but we kinda know what-"

"You don't know shit," the ebon tells him callously, finishing the smoke, crushing it on his desk and scorching the varnish before he swipes it into the bin. Another cigarette follows in its wake a moment later, this one lit with a different, more reliable lighter. Sonic's ears fold back and he shrinks a little into himself, ready to go but waiting on his mentor, who seems suddenly too busy smoking to act on his previously hurried demands. "Fuck even I don't know fuck all, and it's my case." The azure frowns, unsure if they're still talking about Hans' murder, but hasn't long to think about it before Shadow seems to remember they're supposed to be leaving and storms for the office door. "There was a call about a body in Weasel territory," he states loudly, the door still closed. Too loudly. It's a cover. "But Towers is too busy, so we'll start his investigation and hand it over tomorrow. Now get your ass outside and into the car, rookie. I haven't got all day."

Fear of  _ Chaos _ in his bones, Sonic scurries out with ears picking up the chuckles and jokes from other employees regarding the ebon's temper. Someone comments the 'rookie' won't last the week. His friend laughs back and says he won't be in tomorrow. They both lament when the office was Chaotic free loud enough for both hedgehogs to hear before Shadow slams the front door hard enough to shake its frame behind him. There, he finally lets some of the anger drop, pulling on the cigarette in successive puffs until it's barely a stub to flick away, then advances on the car with a deep scowl on his features and venom in his gaze. 

"Get in," he orders, not waiting for a reply before he wrenches the driver's side door open and sits heavily, slamming it behind him. Only once Sonic is settled does he speak again, revving the engine hard. "Eggman denied access to the Robotnik Evidence," he states far too calmly, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he shifts the car into gear. "He gave me a  _ warning  _ for refusing to drop my case.  _ My case."  _ He stamps on the gas, giving Sonic no warning before they're flying down the road as fast as Nicole can manage, headed for Professor Schlemmer's mortuary. "I've seen officers on the same case their entire career, which means the obese bastard wants me off because he's hiding something."

He glances to Sonic with determination and absolute fury in his eyes. "We're going to find out what, even if it takes  _ all night. _ "


	17. Unrequited Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loose threads get tied, and Shadow remembers more of his beloved Maria. Shame about the end of the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask how I'm still alive. I don't know.
> 
> Come annoy us on Discord. There's like, 20 of us now,and we're all thirsty as fuck.
> 
> https://discord.gg/NKxK4Rx

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: UNREQUITED DREAMS**

They arrive at the morgue in record time, Shadow slamming on the brakes so abruptly they lean forward from the momentum. Sonic's heart is beating aggressively, spurred on by adrenaline in response to fearing for his life, fingers shaking like his alcoholic boss now jamming the car into park and mind racing. Shadow's last words still roll about his thoughts. Sonic frowns even as he claws back his composure, letting the enormity of his accusation take root and flower into possibility.  _ What would Eggman hide? Is he related?  _ Blood running cold, the junior detective swallows hard and grimaces when more sinister motives surface. _ Or… was he involved in the deaths and covering it up? But why kill an old man and a sickly young woman…? What could possibly-? _

"If you continue to insist on silent contemplation rather than a candid discussion of possibility, I will fire you." The low growling tone is back within normal range, though there's a hardness to it that belies deeper emotional involvement. Sonic blanches with embarrassment, having not realised he slipped into his thoughts there, glancing to see his mentor lighting up yet another gasper. He's momentarily surprised he's not downing the scotch in his breast pocket, but Shadow continues before he can consider it too deeply. "I assume you're asking yourself the same questions I am; what is his connection, why kill an elder and his terminally ill patient, what was the motive." Shadow pauses to take a drag on the cigarette, tilting his head back to expel smoke through his nostrils slowly, speaking only once his lungs are empty. 

"I don't know the answers," he admits quietly. "But we're going to find out."

The azure regards his mentor carefully, watching how he smokes the tobacco stick slower this time, eyes on the ceiling as lungful after lungful is inhaled and released in an eerie silence. The fact they have three cases up in the air, two possibly connected, is a stretch too far for the inexperienced Junior and he feels out of his depth in that car. Shadow seems unaffected by it though; he appears to be thinking before heading to talk with Schlemmer, likely trying to find a key that fits his case's unique lock- 

_ Wait… a lock?  _ Worry floods Sonic's core hot and uncomfortable. "We asked Tails to do your lock today," he blurts into the quiet, emerald irises snapping to half-lidded crimsons. When Shadow doesn't react to that information, he clarifies. "The broken lock on your apartment. We asked Tails to meet us at the apartment at lunch to fix it up, remember?" He checks his watch and worry quickly develops into full-blown guilt. "Chaos, it's gone two! He's gonna have been there for an hour, at least! Does Schlem know we're coming? Can he wait-"

"Our business with Schlemmer is more important than a broken lock, regardless of if he's expecting us," his mentor snorts out, taking a final drag from his gasper before flicking the stub out of the window. Sonic's quills bristle at the blatant disregard for his friend's time; he probably skipped lunch to be there, plus will likely receive an immense amount of flak from his employer for returning late. Shadow doesn't seem bothered by any of that as he checks his pistol, cigarette carton and flask are all present and correct. "The kid can wait. I'll buy him lunch or something tomorrow. There's work to do."

Sonic doesn't voice an agreement, nor does he move. His silence alone is enough to draw the ebon's sharp gaze back to jades but the azure doesn't falter, meeting his hard stare with an equally determined frown. "Or I take Nicole up to your place, meet Tails for the locks and buy us dinner on the way back." He's already hungry, having left half his sandwich on the office floor. Burgers and fries from  _ Abode Café _ sound so good right now. Beside him, Shadow's brows knit almost suspiciously. Junior detective Sonic rolls his eyes. "Like you said, we're thinking the same things, but neither of us got the answers and Schlem's more comfortable in your company, ain't he? Not to mention he's a little…" 

He pauses, choosing a word carefully, not wishing to anger his mentor by insulting the mortician. "Unfocused. You're good at getting him to make sense. I-" In truth, he's making excuses. In the last few days Shadow's skill set, experience and underworld connections have left the far younger hedgehog feeling anxious. He hadn't realised how  _ naïve  _ his outlook was, how insignificant the intelligence Vanilla had praised him for would feel alongside his childhood idol. It's on the precipice of three cases getting an answer Sonic has been hit with a different truth; Shadow was far more callous than expected but also smarter, leaving the azure struggling to keep pace. He's inadequate. "I just think you'd get more outta him without me there." 

A fake smile curves his lips, an expression so practiced he's sure even Shadow won't see through it. "And this way I get to see my bud, have a chat and treat 'im to a dinner. Then you won't owe him nothing, right?"

Heavy silence follows. The detective continues to study him, a hand on the car door and body turned as if ready to exit, though his eyes remain locked on Sonic. It's a long and stifling second before the detective tisks and pulls open his door, slamming it shut before leaning in through his window. "Do what you want," he states gruffly, tossing his keys across the car without warning. Sonic barely manages to catch them before they tumble to the carpet beneath his feet. "But I want you back here afterwards, food or not." There's another long moment of observation and Sonic can't help feeling sorry for anyone the ebon interrogated in the past. His stare is unnerving. "Just get your ass back here," he summarises with a huff of irritation, already turning to leave. "I don't feel like walking home. You won't like me tomorrow if I have to, either."

The azure watches him head inside the mortician's, not looking back even as he waits for Schlemmer to let him in.  _ Maybe I'm right to feel inadequate,  _ he thinks solemnly. The keys remain in his palms, cupped like water from the barrel to drink, a lifeline entrusted to a youngster who's not sure he deserves it.  _ Chuck was right. I'm treadin' water, stupid enough to dive into the lake before learnin' to swim. Maybe I should quit while I'm ahead… _

\--

Shadow has little time to ponder his protogé's weird behaviour before he's thrown into the world of Dinglehopper Schlemmer. He descends the morgue steps to find the mortician hunched over a familiar, pale body. The nameless tweaker, recently fished from the river in a spot far enough south to be Nack's territory. He's been beaten beyond recognition, fingers removed, stripped of personal effects and the weasel's calling card carved into a shoulder. The body is bloated, skin loose and delicate as paper after being left to marinade in the filthy river, swathes coming away where Schlemmer had begun a full autopsy but paused to take a break. 

A break he's still apparently taking; he eats a bologna sandwich just inches from the cadaver's glassy eyes, scrutinising some tiny detail in the sclera of the unfortunate bastard's left eye. Not an unusual occurrence for the old hybrid Chaotic, but one Shadow is glad Sonic didn't walk in on. His stomach is likely still delicate.

Still, imagining the swarm of officers conducting footwork in the Squad rival's territory brings a smirk to the ebon's previously troubled features and by the time his loafers hit the tiled floor, he looks unbothered by the azure's untimely exit. "We've talked about this," he reprimands the mortician, expecting the sudden jolt of surprise and gasp for air at his measured tone. His focus is either absolute or non-existent, there's no middle ground. If he's working, even if he unlocked the doors a minute before, once he gets back to the cadaver on his slab the world beyond ceased to exist. Well, unless he got hungry. "You can't eat over the bodies, Dinglehopper. It fucks with the evidence, not to mention being unsanitary. Are you trying to make me vomit?"

The dramatic display of surprise winds down just as quickly as it began; a crooked grin cracks the elder's palid features and arms open wide in welcome, unfortunately scattering crumbs across the forgotten body. "Detectif! It has been too long, ya? How has ze case come along? Ze yackal boy?" His tone goes from excited to comically serious, especially when the Professor waggles his eyebrows in an inappropriately suggestive manner for the topic. Pressing lips thin and closing his eyes, Shadow tries to scorch that image from memory before it can settle. "Did you finding ze perpertrayter, mm? He vas murdered, vas he not? Is it-"

_ I suppose it doesn't matter, _ the ebon considers, letting the elder continue to talk as crimson eyes crack tirely. He keeps flinging his arm around, sending more crumbs onto the dead red panda, but Shadow can't find the energy to care for that dead sack of shit. The Squad did a good job obscuring their involvement, as per usual; no clothing, the river washing away any fibers and compromising physical evidence. The mock calling card, slashing a crude rendition of Nack's gang into the red panda's shoulder, would seal Schlemmer's verdict.  _ A dead addict, deal gone wrong and an autopsy that backs up my deductions. Case closed. You're welcome, Towers. _

"Dinglehopper." Tone silencing Schlemmer immediately, Shadow motions to the red panda's body and asks: "Is your report done? My supervisor wants the autopsy, plus my report on his desk by morning and I'd rather not work past midnight."

An affirmative hum and the elder pulls a file from his lab coat, not as stacked as usual due to the obvious lack of evidence. "Yis. There is not much to be going on though." Shadow flips open the file and scours his summary for key details. Satisfied it's just as he plans to spin it in his own report, he closes the folder and tucks it into an inside pocket without comment, only noticing as he does so Schlemmer is still talking. "Vhy dump ze body in vour own territory? Vhy mark zhem with ze emblem? Vhat if-"

"Focus," the ebon reprimands, hoping to derail the elder's idle thoughts. Turning his back on the bloated tweaker to avoid seeing his beaten form, Shadow rifles in his pockets for a smoke. The last thing he needs is memories or nightmares surfacing when he's trying to focus, or the mortician raising questions about a dead addict. There's too many similar cases at the bottom of the cold case pile to risk dredging up. Hopefully, he can disguise the snippy response and distaste of the bloodied cadaver as needing a nicotine fix. "Anything unusual?" He queries the elder, gasper cinched between thin lips and cupping a hand over the tip while preparing to spark up.

"Zose things will be ze death of you," Schlemmer scolds back, but soon lowers his ears and drops the frequently voiced dislike of the Detective's habit beneath a hard stare. "Nine, ze same old as others vho submit to ze devil's vices." The poorly veiled lecture makes Shadow snort, but the Chaotic mortician huffs and folds his arms across his chest. "Who is being the scientist here, mm? Are vou telling me zhis is good for ze body? I have photographs to prove ozhervhise! I will show zhem to you!"

The ebon takes a deep inhale of his cigarette before replying, billowing smoke from his nose and mouth in reply. "I know, you showed me last time."  _ And three thousand times before that.  _ "We're all dying, Shlemmer. I'd rather it be on my terms, even if it's avoidable." With a sigh and imagining the paperwork needing to be filed, Shadow replaces the cigarette between tan lips and hoists himself onto the empty slab beside the tweaker. "So how about you drop the lecture and find me some paper? With this many cases, I may as well do the clerical bullshit as we go."

"...Vou are correct on zhat at least, I zuppose," the old mortician concedes, plodding to his filing cabinet beneath the metal stairs. Already losing the fight with memory, Shadow surrenders to his autopilot, not hearing the mortician's muttered postamble: "Vou are still ze big Dummkopf…"

* * *

_ It's autumn and with it descends the heavy smog weighed down with rainwater and the first threats of frost. The city burns more coal and wood than ever these first few months, the feebleness of humanity's furless form so weak to the elements. Even short, muddied shacks in the Chaotic Quarter are masked in choking smog and trapped smoke, tall structures not visible against an ashen sky. For proprarity and industry, citizens of Station Square suffer as they go about their daily lives; children are weaker and sickly, adults cough like chainsmokers and the elderly simply die in their beds from asphyxiation. _

_ Shadow hates the darker months. His coarse coat may defend him from the worst of the elements, short but thickly layered to trap and contain his own body heat, but Maria always suffered. It was always during cold seasons her condition would worsen. The first year he saw her cough up blood, the Chaotic believed she would die. Her thin body looked ready to snap as she hacked spatters of bright, ruby red into her hanker-chiefs. Cottons that would be immediately burned in the furnace. Then, he had been too young to understand the concept of disease or the blight known as Consumption. _

_ But he did know of death, and he feared it's cold, iron grip. _

_ Shadow had only lived with them for three years when she got sick. She was his whole world and knowing little of life beyond their home, the ebon had been scared of losing her. At only seven and kept uneducated beyond simple concepts, he had struggled to understand. The girl had been weaker than average when they first met and her condition only worsened, even after a diagnosis of Consumption was given eighteen months later. It was a wasting disease, an affliction of the lungs generally believed to come from the industrial air, but once it had settled there was no ridding the body of it; Maria had an expiratory date stamped on her forehead at the tender age of seven years.  _

_ As a boy, he blamed the doctor for her condition. That the man slapped such a life-altering diagnosis on a young girl was cruel. He couldn't understand the physician identified the issue, rather than given it to her. Gerald had reprimanded him harshly for his anger, denied him supper, shutting him down without explaining the fallacy in his thoughts. It had been Maria who explained to him - the girl two years his junior, but afforded a better education. When he grasped it easily, she'd decided to teach him more whenever she got bedbound from illness, and so plenty of long, cold winter days were spent curled beneath warm comforters, the pair struggling through a new book together. _

_ As an adolescent tutored in basic medical care, specific methods of treatment for various ailments Maria was prone to and a far broader understanding of the world, the ebon feared death for his human companion. Chaotics were immune to the disease that afflicted Maria and as such, Shadow had taken over caring for her to protect the Professor, who was too elderly to run the risk anymore. Her kindness and tutorship led to Gerald allowing the Chaotic to attend her formal classes and now fifteen, had managed to surpass the expected education of a human child. The Professor was amazed and began to speak of contacting a politician regarding Chaotic rights talks, but Shadow was far too focused on Maria to care what other humans thought of him. _

_ In honesty, it was a miracle she'd lasted this long, really. Thirteen and having had the affliction for most of her life, the girl had not only weakened physically, but emotionally. She'd become harder to engage or interest in studies, often claimed to be too tired to assist Shadow with harder literature and would sleep through a meal if not awoken. Gerald invested in a wheelchair, which aided Shadow taking her outside on clearer days and to different areas of the house for a change of scenery, but ultimately her legs had wasted beyond use by then. She relies on Shadow even to shower, as her arms ache with the exertion of washing herself. The ebon doesn't mind, takes pride in providing care knowing he's trusted, but she always looks so sad as he rinses her hair free of soap. _

_ "I'm going to die here." _

_ Shadow's blood runs cold, as he looks up from his book, noting how her glassy stare doesn't waver from the ceiling. She's been on bedrest for four days after a frightening display of coughing the past weekend, when fires began to light to ward off the chill. She's pale from lack of sunlight, an emaciated waif of a girl beneath multitudes of blankets that weight more than she does. He closes the book quietly, sets it on the bedside table and rolls to face her, putting himself in her peripherals as a reassuring presence. "I won't allow it. You know that." _

_ Maria hasn't had an appetite for weeks. Getting her to eat has become a chore Shadow bears with love, but to hear her speak with such resignation pains his chest. Tears a blink from being shed make lapis eyes look as deep as a lake, the skin taut across jagged bone quivering as the teenager bites her lip, echoing the fear Shadow has harboured right back as she tilts her head to look at him. "You can't stop it," she whispers, the angle allowing a tear to flow down a cheek as ashen as the sky. "Little shadow, you can do a lot of things, but you cannot stop death. There is no medicine, no miracle tonic for my lungs. I'm knocking harder on death's door with every passing day and there is no taking back my hourglass."  _

_ She reaches up and touches his face, her fingers cold against his warm fur. He closes his eyes and covers it firmly with his own, not planning to release them until they're warm. "I cannot stop death," he admits just as softly. "But I can ask him to greet us at another station." It's hard to keep emotion from his features but he does, a mimic of the Professor's austere strength he'll never be able to fully internalise. Crimson irises open unwavering, his gaze strong and defiant even against the inevitable. "Gerald has spoken of conferences and galas, travelling the continent raising awareness of Chaotic rights. It will likely be hard on your health at first, but we will see so many things, Maria. The wonders of your books, forests too vast to traverse and waterfalls glistening in the sun. Miracles Mother Nature afforded our world… do they not sound beguiling?" _

_ A rare smile cracks her features, bringing some life back to her porcelain skin. Shadow misses her laughter most, but a smile will suffice for today. "You have such faith in Grandfather," she says, curling her fingers. Her nails lightly scratch his cheek and despite it being uncomfortably close to being treated like a pet, from her it still draws a soft murmur from Shadow's throat. "To think at one time, he terrified you. How funny you were as a kit, so quiet and insecure, always in my shadows as I moved about the house…"  _

_ Her smile falters at the memory of being able to walk unaided. With a huff, Shadow lightly squeezes her fingers before letting them go. "He struck me with a ruler for touching the piano," the ebon laments. Even when he was given freedoms, Gerald hadn't permitted him to learn or even try the keys out. It was a family heirloom far too precious for a Chaotic to break. Ignoring a snort of humour from his companion, Shadow shifts off the bed and smooths the blankets over her tiny form, tucking them under her chin. "Now rest. You'll need your energy after dinner, to help me choose where to visit on our tour. If Gerald has his way, it will be only conferences and dining establishments. How boring." _

_ Then he gets it, that elusive giggle as she wriggles beneath her mountain of sheets, already half asleep at the mere suggestion of rest. "How exciting… to travel the continent…" The ebon waits for her to fall asleep before he leans in to press a soft kiss to her forehead, finally letting his own emotions spill over quite literally onto the pillow beside her. Then he crouches and rests his arms on the bed, a makeshift pillow for his suddenly weary head. Their combined sadness overwhelms his resolve far weaker than he will ever admit, and he hopes she'll dream of the places she wants to go as he silently cries, that she'll see herself there without the restraints of her illness, blissfully free of her cage. _

_ You'll never die here, so long as you keep dreaming, Maria… _

_ Dream for us both, until I can fulfill my promise. _

* * *

The paperwork goes smoothly. Shadow is relieved Shlemmer's observations and deductions align with his own. The first case is set to rest amongst his troubled thoughts, while Hans does take more conversation; the Professor cites heat damage to the skin he doesn't recall seeing in the initial investigation, but there was an electric heater left on close to the body. With direct heat and little ventilation as all the windows were closed, he likely died a day or two before, not three to five. A timeframe that matches up to his suspicions regarding the pup's death.

_ It doesn't tell me who hired him, though. I'll need to return to his home and look for clues.  _ That avenue exhausted and written up, Shadow turns his attention to the final task of the night. It's later than he'd like by now, but with both reports already written it's less of a pain to stay and bounce ideas off the old mortician. The elder tucks away the red panda's cadaver, makes a pot of tea - a cup of coffee for Shadow - and they spend an hour pouring over the potential murder weapon sketches, discussing intricacies.

It's slow and arduous work to begin with, but there's a pattern emerging after half a dozen weapons; they're all handguns and mostly pistols, with the alteration on the underside of the barrel and a weight added to the handle base, likely a counterweight. Shadow hasn't seen any guns altered like these besides his own, which he's not keen on drawing attention to in case Schlemmer should jump to conclusions as he was prone to do. They make little progress until eventually, he slams the file closed and fishes for his flask, too agitated to focus. He can hear Schlemmer still talking, can see him in the edge of his vision flipping through the sketches again, the old coot not able to let a conundrum lie if he believed the answer existed under his nose. 

Anger at his family's murderer reignited and unable to watch Schlemmer leaf uselessly through the file a third time, Shadow turns away to down a mouthful of whiskey with a soft growl. It's then he catches an unfamiliar glint of metal from the top of the stairs. He doesn't dare look, knowing if it's what he thinks it is he won't live to react, but the  _ click  _ of a firing pin being set back is all the confirmation Shadow needs to be set into a flurry of movement; not recapping his flask before discarding it to some unknown corner of the morgue, the detective flings himself at the unsuspecting mortician and drags him behind a slab as the shot rings out, echoing almost deafeningly off the metal walls.

_ "Little shadow, you can do a lot of things... _

_ "But you cannot stop death." _


	18. Deeper Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pains new and old for all to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang with us on Discord for art, side stories, teasers, set builds and more!
> 
> https://discord.gg/reCxjtm

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: DEEPER WOUNDS**

Sonic finds the kid not waiting at the apartment complex doors but already on the top floor, changing the lock. Tails says it was latched when he got there but slipped off from a single knock, a claim the azure can only believe after the scene he'd walked in on just days before. Had it been a co-worker or even his landlord Shadow may have been in serious trouble; homophobia still ran rampant in the city, regardless of what politicians would claim. Being caught with another man - let alone the scandal of who he was banging could bring - may cost Shadow his career, freedom or even his life.

He's not truly worried about Tails. Sure he'd been irritated, the Detective had dismissed the value of the kit's time easily, but his friend's boss was a fair taskmaster. Sonic had never met David, owner of the auto-repair garage who took the young Chaotic as his apprentice. All he knew about him was what Tails gossiped over burgers and shakes after work. He's elderly, twice a veteran having served in The Great War and the Second World War, not as spry as he used to be and prone to having days at a time lying on the floor with a sore back and hip. 

The business almost went under before he hired an apprentice, one recommended by an old and trusted customer.  _ Shadow. _

A fact the Junior Detective learned just days before he was due to start at the precinct. Tails had let it spill Saturday night on a bar stool with a face full of grilled cheese. Sonic almost choked on his chili dog before asking for details, but the usually talkative kit had been unusually vague, irritatingly so before he excused himself and took half his sandwich to go. The hedgehog left as confused as possible and a little concerned about his avoidance of an answer, he stared after the fox with lips slightly parted and brows beginning to furrow.

_ "I promised Pa I'd do yard work today," the kit stated hurriedly, tails swirling behind him with nervous energy, eyes flickering between his best friend and the server packing up his leftovers. "We'll talk later, okay?" _

There never was a later; Tails had been too busy Sunday doing the yard work he supposedly did the night before to hang out so Monday rolled around unenlightened. Sonic had his first crime scene before the sun rose that morning and was too busy since to chat with the boy. Now though, with Tails caught up changing a lock and Sonic in no hurry to return to the funeral home filled with dead bodies, cynical elders and an old Chaotic who thought he wanted a ride on his  _ Schlembone _ , it seemed to be the perfect time to dig a little deeper into Tails' history with the stoic ebon.

_ But first, my job.  _ Since the door stuttered open easily, he takes a moment to check around the room for signs of disturbance, but it remains as filthy and cluttered as before. Thankfully, the cum has been scrubbed off the wall, the sheets stripped and the room aired to leave only the stubborn scent of molded wood and wallpaper.  _ Thank Chaos,  _ he sighs internally, glancing over his shoulder at the innocent fox putting a screw into the lock mechanism.  _ The last thing I wanna do is explain how sex works. _

Content the room remained undisturbed, he wrinkles his nose at the general state of the place. Pots sit unwashed and crusted with dried remnants in the sink, similarly two bowls and plates are stacked beside it. Two forks and knives. Two spoons. A quick peek in the drawer and cupboards reveals that's all his crockery, besides an overused and stained brown coffee mug. Sonic hopes he at least rinses it between uses and fighting down an urge to run some soapy water, he turns back to Tails as a distraction. "So, you knew Shads before I did, huh? Why'd you not tell me?" The kit freezes mid-screw, a guilty stare widening his mouth into an awkward smile. The azure folds his arms over his chest and taps a loafer rapidly, brow raised. "Well? I'm waiting, Tails."

"I shoulda," the kit replies, straight and honest enough to throw Sonic off faux-anger and into a deeper frown of confusion. He assumed the kit didn't know it was the same Detective he'd been blabbering on about for years, yet here he was apologising for not admitting to it before. "And I wanted to, but when I told Dave I thought I knew who he was the guy said I should keep it hush hush." Tails scratches his cheek, clawing at his whiskers in discomfort and dislodging a few longer strands with distress. He truly looks regretful. "He said you might make a fool of yourself, without meaning to. That you'd do better meeting as a mentee, not an admirer, and I… kinda agreed with him. You've seen how temperamental Shadow is with people, right?"

Still confused, Sonic relaxes his stance. "So how'd you meet him, then? If he recommended you to Dave, then  _ you  _ had to know him before you got the job. You weren't arrested, right? You'd tell me something that huge… wouldn't you?"

Tails startles and raises his hands defensively. "Chaos, no it's not a bad thing, I promise!" The abandoned screw falls to the floor with a metallic  _ thud _ and begins rolling away, forcing Tails to stop and retrieve it before it falls between the floorboards and hits a tenant below on the head. He sighs in relief when he catches it, having not brought spares to finish the job should a piece be lost. It's a short walk to the door and steady fingers pressing the screw in place before he speaks again. "You remember when I did all Pa's side stuff, when he got sick?"

"Yeah. Painting and gutters and lawns. Chuck got you to do ours, paid you too much, then Vanilla insisted on feeding you." Sonic chuckles at the memory. His family were poor, but it didn't stop them being generous with what they had. They'd go hungry to feed a starving kid any night. The comment doesn't seem complete though. The azure frowns deeply. "I can't see you scaling all those stairs in the hope of another job, though. At most you'd get a paint job and with the place being rented, not even that was likely. I told you to go into a different district."

"Yeah," the fox agrees in a mildly accusatory tone. "You sent me to a dead end. Everyone took one look at me and shut the door in my face. I didn't really get why until an old guy from the Jackal Squad told me I shouldn't be out alone." The azure blanches at both the mention of the gang and the implications of what may have happened to his friend, but Tails plays it off with a smile and a dismissive wave of the hand. "It's fine; he looked scary to begin with but was actually really nice. Said a policeman saw me wandering around and was worried. I told him I was looking for an odd job, he gave me five mobiums and told me to go home."

"Gray?" Sonic asks, but the fox shrugs. "Never said his name?"

Now he shakes his head. "Nope. I went home and Ma was mad I took money from a tail-less, ear-less jackal on the bad side of town. So they stashed it, in case the guy followed me to demand it and more from them. Next day we get a knock on the door and expecting a jackal coming to collect, Pa opens it up shouting for him to get lost." Tails looks a little sheepish. "I think Shadow was a little taken aback, but Pa apologised when he saw his badge and Ma made him some coffee. We'd read about him in the paper and you told me about him some but it was surreal. He wasn't there to collect a debt, he was there to talk to me.

"Said he'd asked around and found out I was good with tools. He knew a guy who needed aid in his auto-garage. That it wasn't great pay, as a Chaotic and an apprentice, but it would be more than pounding pavement. Safer too." The youngster finishes up the lock and casts a disdainful glare at his tails resting on the wooden boards in the hall. "He didn't say why so much, but he was adamant I shouldn't be on the street alone. I heard him tell Pa I was 'valuable to the wrong people'. I didn't need to be told what that meant, so I took his offer."

He looks back to Sonic as he tucks the screwdriver away in one of the many pockets in his overalls. "We met Dave the next day and turned out Shadow hadn't told him the apprentice he'd lined up was Chaotic. He wasn't too happy, but said so long as I could do the job I was hired. Set me to work tuning up the adapted car the Detective drives and when I got it starting more reliably in a half hour, Dave hired me on the spot." Tails takes a breath, then huffs with enough force to tussle his fringe. "Was a tough gig to start with, but Dave saw I didn't need my hand held and left me to it, gave me a raise when he found out about my seven siblings and Pa's back. He and Shadow gave us a lifeline."

_ If the Squad had taken you in, Chaos knows where you'd be now. Did Shadow make another deal to protect your future? Why? _

"Well, I'm done." The cheery assertion draws Sonic from his own head. Tails shuts them in the apartment and tries the deadbolt, making sure it doesn't come undone even with the use of a key before he flips it off and checks the three keys he has ready are all functional and smooth. Once happy, he leaves the door open and holds the three keys out for Sonic to take. The azure does so and studies them like an alien species, still thinking as Tails starts talking again. "Dave said I could have the afternoon off so if you think he'll be happy, I can get outta your quills."

Sonic snorts. "Hell no," he states simply, a hand on the door as he ushers the boy back into the hall. "Doing a job for free and a story like that deserves some dinner. Besides, it feels like forever since we hung out already! Wanna head down to  _ Abode Café _ to grab a shake and a 'dog before you go home? Shads is off with Schlem talking science." Tails nods enthusiastically and bounds down the steps with the tastes of salty hot dogs and thick vanilla milk dancing behind his eyes. The azure follows his friend with a chuckle, glad he could make the boy's day memorable. 

_ I'll be back before they're done geeking out easy. Not like Shads needs me cramping his style, anyhow… _

\--

Adrenaline pumping and heart racing, Shadow climbs off the old mortician behind the cadaver slab and fishes inside his coat for his pistol, briefly checking the chamber before snapping it shut. He hears their assailant curse, then silence descends once more, but the Detective isn't stupid enough to believe the shooter has fled. He stays flush with the far side of the slab and takes careful control of his breathing, forcing his hands to remain steady even against the incessant flow of hormones telling him to act, ears pert for any small sounds and a knee coiled to his chest to spring if needed. "Stay down," he whispers harshly to Schlemmer, not looking at him as he focuses on the room. "Until I say so."

He doesn't need to look at Schlemmer to know he took the fall a lot worse; the Professor angles onto an elbow with a pained hiss and warily looks over a shoulder to the Detective, who watches only from a corner of an eye. "Ach… you need to be losing ze pounds, yis?" Shadow snorts at the weak humour and shifts to peer over the slab, only to duck back behind it as another shot rings out. A stray bullet whistles past his head and embeds in the metal wall opposite, drawing a rare curse from Schlemmer. Before the ebon can grab him, he's on his knees and shouting at the shooter over the edge of the slab. "Vhat are you playing at?! You could be killing someone with ze vild shots! I should-"

Shadow drags him back down just as another bullet fires, singing the elder's eccentric hair but missing the forehead that'd been there a moment before. Not about to have another death on his shoulders, the ebon slams the old man up against the slab with a deep growl, bearing glinting fangs. "That's the fucking point, Dinglehopper. Do as you're told and stay the fuck hidden, unless you want to next leave this morgue in a coffin." It's the first time he has intimidated Schlemmer and it works far too well. The hybrid nods emphatically, scooting close to the stone slab with a shudder of fear. "Good. Now be quiet."

The Detective can only hope the old fool forgives him later as he releases his lab coat, crouches by the edge of the slab and draws a steadying breath. Dark fingers flex slightly on the trigger and handle, reaffirming their grip, his usually accurate aim nearly guaranteed so long as his hands remain steady. The question of who's shooting at him is quickly answered by logic; every enemy he's ever made is either incarcerated or dead, except for one. With a rough plan and a low growl, Shadow shouts into the void. "Finally got tired of failing lackeys and came down to finish me off yourself? How does getting your hands dirty for once feel, Nack? Does it make your little weasel cock hard?"

"Fuck you, ass-licking Human pet." Shadow smirks at the insult. Nack was always easy to anger but unlike Infinite, was terrible at retaining his composure. The jackal approached insult with cold calculative revenge, while another shot without the hedgehog even feigning an attempt to return fire is predictable, as are the insults that stream from the weasel's mouth. "I ain't gonna miss yer ugly mug once I put a bullet through it, nor that weird-ass mongrel dipshit yer hidin' with."

Despite the stimulant hormones ravaging his system, the ebon forces a chuckles past thin lips. Noticing Schlemmer looks very concerned beside him, Shadow offers the elder a steady gaze of reassurance, momentarily raising a palm to request patience. "A bullet through me? You couldn't hit the good side of a barn door like that, asshole." He cups the underside of his pistol grip again, still counting bullets as another embeds in the other side of the stone slab turned cover.  _ That's five. Just one shot left, weasel.  _ "You went through all the trouble forging your own gang, just to become someone else's puppet? Pathetic."

"Shoulda kept yer nose outta where it don't belong, hedgie." He hears the last shot get loaded into a chamber, the click of a firing pin being thumbed back.  _ Go time. _ "Now yer dead, ain't ya?"

"Not yet," he mutters to himself, the ensuing silence and scorch of spent gunpowder thickening the air in his chest. He's been in shootouts before but never with a civilian, the Professor's very presence making him less methodical but more intent on bringing the confrontation to a close. Shadow has to remind himself to take it slow, considering everything he has and utilise it.  _ He's got a single bullet left,  _ the detective reminds himself, fingers steady.  _ He's impulsive. Goad it out and strike while he reloads.  _ "If this is dead, you're a fucking awful criminal."

Nack wastes his last bullet with a snarl and Shadow is in motion instantly; he stands and rests his elbows on the slab, ignoring the nauseating scent of cleaning fluids burning his nostrils as he takes aim. The weasel makes no attempt to flee or hide. Fangs bared and lips pulled back in a wicked smile, he pulls the trigger. Only when the pin hits the empty chamber does Nack seem to realise he fucked up, his subsequent expression of mortified fear that brings a smirk to the Detective's muzzle in the moment he takes to aim. "Check mate, weasel."

The shot echoes off metal walls. Beside him, Schlemmer clamps his hands over his head and screws his eyes shut, a grunt as the sharp crack of gunfire rings in his ears. The bullet hits its mark in his dominant shoulder. With a cry Nack is hunching forwards, clutching at the wound oozing thick blood. The gun falls from his fingers with a clatter and slips from the raised entrance point to the morgue floor, leaving the would-be assassin unarmed. Time slows for the ebon as he moves, pistol still raised while he takes slow, steady steps towards the stairs. "Hands in the air, asshole."

When their eyes meet Shadow can see the panic, the ghost of defiance behind shaking limbs and pained grimace. Nack bares his fangs as the ebon reaches the bottom of the stairs and in retaliation, Shadow loads his next shot. "It's over," he iterates calmly, feeling his presence of mind returning now the situation has turned to his favour. "Now raise your damn arm before I get a hold of the other and see how loud you scream with it yanked behind your back." His good arm raises shakily into the air, palm fur darkened by fresh blood clumping in the dull pelt. The detective takes a hand from his pistol handle to locate cuffs to secure it behind his back, intent on making the bastard suffer regardless of compliance.

Apparently, that's what Nack had been waiting for. He runs for it as soon as the hand moves and subsequently, Shadow's second shot misses the fleeing gangster and embeds in the far wall. "For fuck's  _ sake,"  _ he yells as he takes the stairs, tucking his pistol into a coat pocket in preparation for a chase he's likely to lose. "Get those bullets bagged, Schlemmer. The firearm, too. The bastard won't wriggle out of this one." Not waiting for the mortician to reply he passes through the still open front door, pauses on the threshold to locate his target then sprints after the fleeing figure with as much speed as his thin frame will allow.

**"SSPD! On the ground!"**

\--

Sonic is in high spirits as he drives past the picturesque homes, humming the last song playing in the café and fingers strumming on the wheel. In the passenger seat, a paper bag of burgers and fries for Shadow and the mortician steam. Unable to resist the delicious scent of fried food even on a full stomach, the azure fishes inside and steals a fry for the road. It's salty and crunchy, drawing a hum of approval from peach lips as he turns onto Schlemmer's street. An afternoon with his best friend, even if he shared some unexpected connections with Shadow, was the tonic Sonic needed to revitalise his wilting confidence.

They'd chatted at length about the detective, and Sonic learned two important things. First, that Shadow was and always had a harsh demeanor. He spoke the same way to his Junior as he had to Tails, when they first met. He was abrupt but honest, taking no bullshit from the fox or his parents regarding his skill level or what his apprenticeship would entail, but that was how Shadow showed he cared.  _ "He told me reality is harsh," Tails states with a mouthful of chilli cheese fries. "That I'd do better to get used to it now than have to adjust later. Dave's the same way. I guess that's why they get on, despite him being Human." _

Second, every criticism he offers is intended to be constructive; recalling the slights and insults periodically thrown his way with this in mind, more undertones are clear. He'd been warning his protogé how bad the job could be, how he could be affected as to prepare him for fundamentally life-altering sights. Shadow had been trying to protect him in a detached and confusing way.  _ Woulda been easier to just come out with it, Shads. But I get it now. I ain't cramping your style, I just got a lot to learn. Besides, I think you need someone to work with anyhow. _

**_"SSPD! On the ground!"_ **

He's so lost in thought with a dumb smile on his muzzle, Sonic almost doesn't notice the short Chaotic sprinting down the road toward him. Both confused why such a scruffy creature would be running down an upper-middle class Human street and sure he should pull over and help as a policeman, he's just put Nicole in park when he hears gravelly tones demanding someone drop to the ground. Shadow emerges from Schlemmer's yard at full speed and runs in the same direction as the fleeing man but he's obviously struggling to keep pace, far too unfit for a foot chase.

As the figure draws closer Sonic can see he's bleeding, struggling to maintain his pace and clutch at his shoulder. He's not paying attention, looking at the breathless Detective over a shoulder as Shadow comes to a sudden and halting stop against a wall, his coughing fit audible even inside the car. The criminal is thrilled as he draws closer, smirking at the ebon's poor health. Angry he seems to enjoy Shadow's misery and determined to stop him from escaping, the azure bides his time. Unnoticed in the car, he waits until the smaller Chaotic draws level with the hood before acting so fast, there's no time for him to react.

Sonic wrenches the car door open and throws it as wide as it'll go, straight in the Chaotic's path. The unsuspecting criminal runs at full speed into the metal and rebounds onto the pavement with a gasp. He lands with his nose streaming fresh blood and a harsh hiss of pain when his back hits the curb, stunning him long enough for Sonic to exit the vehicle, roll him onto his front and pin his good arm, a knee pressed into the small of his back for good measure. The weasel squirms until the azure presses down a little harder. "Easy, man. You're already in trouble. Don't make it worse for yourself."

"The bastard… is in more... than just _trouble,"_ Shadow asserts as he slowly nears the car, holding his side with a grimace of pain. The ebon has to stop and catch his breath again, bent double as he hacks up some last grey phlegm from his abused lungs to the floor. "He took six… shots at me. I think… think he also… _fuck_." The Detective straightens, pressing a hand to his side as he forces the words through burning lungs. "I think he hired Hans… then killed him to… tie up loose ends… _Christ_ _almighty my ribs."_

Despite the officer pinning him to the ground, the weasel spits toward Shadow's shoe with a growl. "You ain't got no proof of nothin', flatfoot! Yer tryna pin shit on me 'cause you ain't got no leads! I'll be outta the slammer on bail by mornin' and you'll be the fuckin' laughin' stock of th'office  _ again, _ asswipe."

"About to inform the man he's under arrest, Junior Detective Sonic hesitates when his mentor waves him off, having finally recovered his breath and sporting an affronted sneer. As soon as he's released, said weasel tries to scramble up, only for Shadow to seize him by the neck and slam the criminal into the already dented car door. The ebon bares his fangs, spitting in the other's face as he speaks, subduing the Chaotic's remaining resistance with words only. "I've everything I need to get your ass in Prison Island before midnight, Nack."

The ebon shifts his weight and stance, pinning the gangster to the vehicle securely with a hand on his throat and a knee at his groin, a warning to stay still unless he wants unimaginable pain. "l have your gun, spent bullets peppered inside the morgue, a witness who saw you fire on me unprovoked no less than six times." Sonic expects him to reach for cuffs, or unbuckle his belt for a makeshift restraint, but instead Shadow raises his hand to the oozing wound on the weasel's shoulder and meets his gaze. "Most likely, you weren't intelligent enough to lose the gun used to kill Hans either. I'm expecting a match, and this-"

Sharp claws plunge into the fresh wound without warning and a cruelty Sonic hasn't anticipated, forcing him to look away as the detainee screams and writhes against the car. Nausea swims in his stomach and reflux burns his throat for the long ten seconds it takes for Nack's cries to be reduced to low, whimpered gasps. Looking back, Shadow holds a bloodied bullet barely a half inch from the criminal's exhausted, shaking frame, eyes alight with an animosity Sonic doesn't understand the depth of. "-seals it. Schlemmer saw me shoot our attacker, now the Junior saw me extract this from you. It'll match ballistics reports on my pistol. You're fucked, Nack."

He fists the bullet and tightens his hold on the weasel's neck, who whimpers in fear. The azure cringes at the violence but isn't sure he should interject after Shadow almost died, even more so when the ebon asks: "Now the truth; who hired you to kill me?"

Nack doesn't answer, only shakes and whines in Shadow's grasp. He's playing for time, hoping for a miracle, but the glint in the Detective's eyes suggests the weasel is out of luck. "Very well," he states calmly, hoisting Nack to his feet before thrusting him toward Sonic. The azure catches him by the shoulders and pins him to the car again, unbuckling his belt for use as restraints as Shadow adds quietly. "I know an old acquaintance who's  _ dying _ for a chat. Perhaps you'll tell him?"

The colour drains from Nack's face and he thrashes, shouting for a chance to talk, begging to be taken to the precinct, demanding Sonic read his rights to make a legal arrest. Pity for the terrified creature marrs a peach muzzle but the Junior can only shake his head apologetically, then hot urine suddenly drowns the gangster's slacks. Shadow grimaces in disgust. "Fucking hell, now the car's going to reek of piss…" The azure casts his mentor a tired look the ebon would be proud of and the Detective just snorts. "Get him in anyway. I'd rather not work overtime."

Sonic bites back the comment about how handing a suspect to the Squad wasn't really working just as Schlemmer finally catches up to the car. The hybrid is out of breath and wheezing slightly from age and poor health, a hand pressed to his back as he informs Shadow the bullets did indeed match the one taken from Hans. His mentor sounds pleased and hands over the bullet taken from Nack's shoulder for safekeeping, but it's as Sonic locks the weasel inside the car Shadow's raised voice draws his attention. "That can't be right, Dinglehopper. It's a  _ police issue _ piece."

"I am avair," the elder responds solemnly, sparing Sonic a glance before he meets hardened crimson irises. "But I am being sure Detectif. Ze gun firing zis bullet... It is the same as ze Robotnik cold case."


	19. Crime & Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet, sweet revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Violence and torture.
> 
> We have a discord! Come hang, if you dare.  
> https://discord.gg/NKxK4Rx

**CHAPTER NINETEEN: CRIME & PUNISHMENT**

Manhandling the piss-stained, bloodied weasel into the Den is a struggle Shadow doesn't appreciate. Nack refuses to go quietly, fighting to avoid facing the jackal he betrayed two decades prior, driven almost entirely by fear. His movements are desperate and erratic, blabbering random information irrelevant to the case at hand for leverage, even promising to become an informant once just to halt their progress up the path. Still tired from his sprint and unwilling to continue the charade, Shadow switches hold to the injured shoulder and wrenches the criminal forward without remorse, deaf to his cries of pain as they finally reach the Den.

Sonic hangs in his peripherals with a deep frown on his muzzle. The kid doesn't agree with handing Nack over to the Squad, but the ebon forgives his ignorance in that regard. He doesn't know their history, nor the trouble said weasel has caused the Squad since causing a mutiny within its ranks. But for all his bravado, Nack's Roughnecks were primarily a joke; they lack a semblance of discipline, going through strongarms and runners like water in a brothel, accomplishing little since their establishment besides causing Infinite headaches for his own expansion plans. 

Shadow isn't about to deny the Jackal Squad leader his revenge, nor is he stupid enough to believe once he's in the station, Nack would be so compliant. Best to let Infinite beat it out of him. Then, they both win.

Impatient, the Detective bangs on the door a second time as he wrestles with the weasel, digging a claw into the bullet wound to settle the Chaotic down. Nack whimpers and sags just as Gray yanks open the door with a snarl on his lips. A sound to quickly die in his throat when Shadow thrusts his captive into the elder jackal's chest. "Brought the boss a present," he states with little ceremony, enjoying both Gray's surprise and the instant release of more weasel urine that trickles onto his shoe. "This little shit killed your pup and buyer. Considering he emptied a pistol at  _ me _ too, I want to know who hired him. Go to town on his ass; so long as he can be booked come morning I don't care if he's on crutches."

Gray sneers in disgust and shakes his shoe free of piss, already dragging the weasel inside. Shadow jams his foot in the closing door, using the jackal's preoccupation to his advantage to force it open and step in after them. "I've no intention of waiting until you can be bothered to find me, Gray. Get my information and  _ quickly. _ I've a hunch he's involved in more than just thinning out your associates and I want  _ proof _ . We'll wait  _ here  _ for the bastard to spill his guts. Infinite can update me  _ himself."  _

The right hand growls but doesn't have a rebuke before dragging the weasel away. Nack drags his feet but Gray doesn't tolerate it, effortlessly hoisting the mammal off the floor by the collar as he barks an order to a pup. "Get the boss. Tell 'im he got a gift." As the rival gangster squirms and chokes uselessly in his captive's unyielding grasp, Shadow shrugs off his coat, tosses it at the rack opposite the door and sits on a sofa, arms folding over his chest with a huff. He looks relatively calm, sans the tap of an index finger against a bicep, but beneath his pelt muscles vibrate with adrenaline; if he's right who the weasel's employer is, the misplaced murder weapon coming into his possession not only makes more sense, it means real shit is about to hit the fan.

Sonic remains standing in his coat and hat until Shadow scoffs at the Junior Detective, reaching into an inside blazer pocket for his hip flask. "Sit," he orders, though his tone is strangely soft. Ruby irises meet emeralds over the lip of his flask. "Unless you intend to stand for upwards of thirty minutes, get comfortable. Infinite isn't one to rush an interrogation, especially not one he's been having wet dreams about for over two decades." He pauses to take a sip of the harsh contents, alcohol numbing already singed nerves and allowing the Detective to remain seated, rather than pace. "We'll book the bastard tomorrow, on the clock. Tonight, we're here solely for answers. Unless you have something more important than your job requiring your attention?"

Obviously spurred into solidarity, the azure relieves himself of his hat and coat and gingerly takes a seat on a ratty armchair. It's overstuffed and splitting, peppered with questionable stains that couldn't be scrubbed from the salvaged furniture. A grimace touches Sonic's muzzle and his mentor honestly can't tell if he's simply uncomfortable, or calculating how likely it is furniture can pass on a venereal disease. "Don't be an asshole," he states in a gruffer tone, having no patience for ignorance in that regard. He presses a palm to the younger hedgehog's chest and forces him to recline in the chair. "Don't be rude and deny their hospitality. We're not out on our asses; that's polite for Gray, so  _ relax." _

The junior doesn't relax but stays where Shadow pushed him. Willing to call that a victory, the ebon relaxes and takes another swig. Resting a calf on the opposite knee, he exudes calm, but the intensity of crimson eyes locked on the closed door to the interrogation room ahead betrays unsettled energy fighting with the dulling effect of strong liquor. The Detective's mind refuses to settle, constantly sifting through the fragmented information at his disposal until one single speculation stands out above all others. A hypothesis he doesn't want to believe or entertain, as it causes his entire career to feel like a farce.

_ Give me something fast, Nack. Or I'll go find the dirt myself. _

_ \-- _

Infinite drops what he'd been doing immediately, rolling his shirt sleeves as he strides through the Den with purpose. He doesn't spare the two hedgehogs a glance passing through the foyer. It's a moment he's waited for since Nack caused a mutiny in the Squad's ranks just months after being offered their hospitality. The weasel had been weak and hopeless, on death's door with a myriad of infected injuries and sores. The relatively naive jackal felt pity for a fellow Chaotic abused and cast aside by Humanity and took him in, the worst mistake of his criminal career.

_ "The detective is here. He caught the weasel." _

The gangster's mind races with words and actions, possibilities to bring to fruition if desired. He wants to hear Nack begging for mercy, or crying out with pain as he bleeds on the cold cement floor. A heated anger has infected every muscle in Infinite's body as he walks until he feels ready to explode. His body is on fire, vibrating with repressed fury beneath monochromatic fur, claws itching to marr the weasel over and over by the time he reaches the holding room. He doesn't knock on the unbolted door and trusts Gray to lock it behind him, focusing entirely on his prey.

It feels anticlimactic, the sight of his most hated adversary in the far corner, curled in on himself and shuddering with fear. Heat drains from his muscles as quickly as it came, leaving a dull and unsatisfied ache in the jackal's shoulders. The room reeks of fresh piss and blood, the latter likely from the crimson fluid caked on Nack's hand. More oozes from a ragged hole in his shoulder, a gunshot wound, an unexpected component of Shadow arresting anyone; he's always so careful about using his gun.

"Well well," he finally utters, startling Nack out of his cocoon of safety. He scrabbles further into the corner, clawing at the wall as if he could crawl inside it with enough perseverance. His eyes are wide and wild, muzzle below his nostrils deep crimson with dry blood and entire body shaking so hard, he looks like he's having a seizure. Gray has stripped his urine-soaked underwear and slacks, leaving the weasel's dampened groin embarrassingly exposed beneath his shirt tails. It's almost comical and Infinite can't keep a gleeful grin from his muzzle as he finishes rolling his sleeve. "Look what the hedgehog dragged in."

He'd forgotten how  _ small  _ Nack was. Memory of his betrayal had inflated the mammal into an imposing figure whereas in reality, he's barely up to Infinite's shoulder and already whimpering despite not being touched. The jackal tries to feel that same pity he had before but none comes, only disgust when a trickle of fresh piss seeps from his sheath in utter terror. Infinite curls his lips and flashes his fangs. "A worthless gutter rat," he finishes his earlier statement, advancing on the smaller male as a growl enters his tone. "And how fortunate he'd bring me the exact one I wanted. It must be my birthday. Where'd he find you skulking around?"

Nack gasps when he's grabbed by an ear and roughly pulled to his feet, barely permitted to balance on tip toes as he's drawn high enough to stare at the jackal's jaws. The weasel flinches from the sharp fangs and whimpers, seemingly unable to form words through the pain and fear being inflicted, forcing Gray to answer his vigil beside the now locked door. "Th'mortician's," he states quietly, enjoying the usurper's discomfort. "Took half a dozen shots at th'Detective an' pissed 'im off. I'm guessin' he knows you got bad blood."

Not bothering to extract an explanation for his actions, Infinite clasps his other hand tightly around the squirming Chaotic's windpipe. It sends a wave of euphoria through the ex-fighter to have another at his mercy, a rush of adrenaline he can't deny in the moment. "I could just kill you," he growls, livid this piece of shit dared to hurt his Detective. He doesn't understand the possessiveness this weasel's actions have brought on and that only angers him further. "But then I'd be dragged in for murder... Still, you took a potshot at the wrong cop, weasel. _Lucky_ _me."_

The gangster releases his ear and instead presses fingers to the wound on Nack's shoulder, smiling maliciously at the choked cry it garners. "Painful thing, getting shot," Infinite murmurs almost thoughtfully, his touch feather light and gentle as he skims raw flesh with claw tips, savouring the whimpered pleas for mercy bubbling in the weasel's throat. Having waited so long to inflict this on his rival, it's hard not to drag out the anticipation of pain. It's  _ pleasurable  _ to press his fingers inside his ragged flesh, to feel the blood on his fur and muscles contracting around his digits in distress, purposely fishing for the bullet he knows by the state of the wound has already been removed just to hear Nack's shouts of agony.

_ "Pl-Pl-Please,"  _ the weasel forces through his constricted throat, a patheticly pleading tone.  _ "The pup, i-it weren't me! Let m-me-"  _

Infinite tightens his gasp a touch more, silencing the Chaotic at his mercy with a whimper. He leans in close enough to bite Nack on the snout and growls through grit teeth. "We'll come to that later," he informs the weasel in threateningly low tones, twisting his claws inside the gunshot wound for emphasis. A shudder of agony brings a sick satisfaction to the angry jackal's chest as he wrenches his claws free once more, uncaring for the splatter of blood to hit his waistcoat. "I don't want answers, I want you to  _ suffer _ . Gray can listen to your pathetic excuses once I'm done."

Fury quickly becomes rage and he strikes, palm open and claws raised to leave deep gashes across the weasel's left cheek. A soft cry for mercy only fuels the cascading burn in Infinite's muscles and he strikes again, this time releasing Nack a moment before landing a cracking right hook to the smaller Chaotic's face. The rival gangster jerks back with the momentum, falling to the floor in a heap of limbs and bloodied clothing. There he stays, until Infinite kicks him onto his back with a pointed loafer.

"You didn't show my pup any mercy," he snarls and kicks the weasel so hard in the ribs, he's sure he hears a crack. Nack cries in distress, tears and snot flowing freely by this point as he tries to verbalise a response amongst the abuse. Infinite gives him no time though, dropping a knee heavily onto his abdomen and repeatedly slashing at his chest, his face, his eyes and ears. A frenzied attacking pattern he's not entertained since taking his freedom, one that hinders his ability to speak through gasps and snarls of exertion. "I. Promised. Him.  _ Safety. _ And.  _ You-" _

He doesn't hear Gray address him the first time. Nor the second.  _ "Infinite."  _ It's the firm use of his chosen name that finally snaps the jackal out of his fury, a trance that leaves him breathing fast and shaking with adrenaline when it's broken. Beneath him, the weasel lies in a bloodied mess, almost unrecognisable as deep slashes stain the ribboned remains of his shirt and waistcoat in varying shades of red. Nack's jaw is misshapen and bruised, an eye swollen shut and from the blood clumping his fur, probably blinded. Infinite remains with a knee pressed into his abdomen long enough to be sure he's still breathing before standing up.

"Hick'd just turned sixteen," he mutters, more to himself than the battered Chaotic at his feet. A tattered ear turns to his voice, a sign Nack is still conscious. Infinite kicks his broken rib once more out of spite, relishing the grunt of pain that slips past tired lips. "He'd just _escaped_ the fighting rings and you had him _killed._ For what, pocket change? Personal satisfaction? I can guarantee you'll get _forced_ _satisfaction_ where you're going, asshole-"

"J-Just the kid," Nack whimpers, barely able to squint up at his captor, in too much pain for his eyes to focus. Infinite feels anger spike again; the weasel knew no member of his Squad was 'just' anything. They were indispensible, his  _ family,  _ and the jackal is a millisecond from throwing self control to the wind and stamping on Nack's throat when he manages to add between body wracking coughs laden with bloody phlegm. "Kill th-the kid… keep h-him busy…" He pauses to curl in on himself, cradling his pained body in a protective ball. "Just keep... D-Detective Shadow busy…"

Infinite feels his stomach drop into his shoes, usual care keeping his confused emotions regarding the Detective lost in sudden concern. "Keep Shadow busy?" He repeats, casting a glance to Gray. The old jackal shrugs, not knowing any more detail than he in that moment, a frown creasing his forehead as they return their gazes to the weasel in unison. "Why?" The query goes not only unanswered but unacknowledged and with a deep snarl, Infinite fists the weasel's fur and yanks him up against the wall, all patient pretenses lost. Most likely, this was the same person who wanted him dead.

" _ Who hired you, Nack? Tell me.  _ **_Now_ ** _." _

\--

The detective gets progressively more and more irritable, soon ignoring his own advice to pace the small foyer. Sonic remains as silent and still as a statue though. The Den still makes him antsy to leave; the scents of hard liquor, mold and cigarette smoke more potent than even  _ Rouge's.  _ Coupled with the odour of canine fur, it's oppressive to breathe. The azure can't imagine having to live here and can only hope after a while, you stopped being able to smell the stale, foul odours so clearly.

Shadow quickly runs out of whiskey, fifteen minutes at the most, and stuffs the flask back into his blazer with a curse. Watching his mentor rapidly lose his cool is unsettling. Azure ears fold in disguised pity as he tries to engage the agitated hedgehog. "Do y'wanna talk it through, Shads?" It's a tentative probe met with a heavy scowl. Sonic hunches ever so slightly in submission, his quills flat to his back. "I mean, you think Nack's the connection between the dead pup and Hans, right? That he hired him? Isn't that just… a hit on a rival gang? Stirring trouble? Do we need-"

"I need you to  _ stop talking,"  _ the ebon responds harshly, pausing his steps to search his pockets for a smoke. Sonic clamps his lips together, watching the older hedgehog spark up and take a deep drag of the burning stick. "I know there's a link," he clarifies with smoke billowing from his mouth, already going for another toke as he speaks. "I'm missing something obvious. He hired Hans to kill the pup. Paid him well too, since the goons  _ Hans  _ hired kept the drugs for themselves. When the news of Hick's body breaks, he goes and kills Hans to tie up the loose ends without knowing there's another thread flashing their haul. But who hired  _ Nack?" _

Emerald eyes narrow into a frown. "Did someone have to?" He asks honestly, sitting up in the chair. "They're rivals. Won't they pull stuff like this all the time?"

"Too simple," Shadow disregards the theory with a wave of the hand. "Not to mention Nack isn't usually an idiot. If he did it for credibility, he'd have a fall guy do the dirty work." Another toke, and the cigarette is almost gone. Shadow doesn't seem to care when the ash falls to the floor beyond stamping it out. "He took Hans out personally and tried to shoot me without motive. That's either a grudge I'm unaware of or someone's lining the bastard's pockets." A last drag and he drops the cigarette butt to aged floorboards, a heavy twist of the same heel to extinguish the burning remnants before he starts to light another. "Not to mention Schlemmer's recent observation regarding my pistol…"

Evidence Sonic couldn't get his head around. "That's wild," he comments quietly, unable to offer anything constructive in that regard. It feels like doing a jigsaw with only half the pieces. It's unlikely Nack was involved in that too, ludicrous even. That was bordering on a conspiracy with Shadow at the epicentre. "Let's focus on what we know for now, yeah?" He scratches a cheek as Shadow gets irritated with his lighter and shakes the ever loving shit out of it. "If the ballistics come back Nack's involved in Hans' death-"

"He  _ is  _ involved," Shadow growls through cinched lips, muffling his irritation comically. Not that Sonic finds the expression on his face funny in the slightest. The ebon tries to light the gasper a third time before muttering to himself and heading for the door. Sonic stands, only to freeze when Shadow gives a hard glare. "This piece of shit needs air and I need  _ peace _ from speculation. You stay here, wait for Infinite to come back with a report. I'll be back when I've had the time to think everything over  _ without _ unwanted interjection."

The door slams behind him and Sonic sinks back into the chair with a sigh. Every time he thinks they're making progress in their partnership, a spanner gets tossed in the gears. It's frustrating, but with little idea what to do besides try to be useful the azure closes his eyes and leans back with a sigh. All the information they have circles around his head as he awaits Shadow's return, determined to think of a logical alternate hypothesis beyond the weasel getting reckless but frowning at the ebon's deductions.

Clear threads link Nack, Hans and the dead runner, a chain of events easy enough to follow in his mind's eye. He's not entirely convinced there's an extension beyond Nack though; the Jackal Squad and the Roughnecks are known competitors for territory and city districts. Their suppliers are separate, Dust of different grades and chemical composition, even their style of business at entirely different ends of the spectrum. It makes sense for Nack to kill a pup to slight his rival and draw unwanted attention all in a single shift of a pawn.  _ Perhaps he's paranoid, or biased…?  _ An instant passes and Sonic shakes it off.  _ No. He's absurdly rational. If he thinks there's a puppeteer I gotta trust him, but where does his pistol fit in all of this? Is that only guesswork…? _

It's a confounding factor, a clear anomaly the Junior Detective would've discarded without a second thought if left to his own devices.  _ This  _ is why he idolised Shadow as a teenager; he always closed his case,  _ always  _ joined the dots, no matter how scattered the clues were. Sonic had been dumped in the centre of a classic DCI Shadow crime with an unexpected twist; the ebon himself is in focus, maybe too close to see the wood for the trees.  _ A lost murder weapon comes into the possession of the sole survivor of the incident… that can't be a coincidence. Assuming Shadow is telling the truth and he'd been absent that day, who else would have access to it? _

_There's two obvious answers: the killer, and the cop on the case._ _Does that mean Nack-?_

"If you're sleeping on the clock, I'll throttle you." Emerald irises snap open with a start, the gruff tones returning the disquieting memory of being threatened in a small, filthy office. Before him stands Infinite, previously pristine suit slightly crinkled but most noticeably, peppered with blood spatter. His hands are similarly darkened, though he cleans them with a handkerchief as if to dry them after washing, spreading pinkish stains across the white fabric in sickening swathes. Sonic rises silently to his feet, unable to speak in the face of an infamously slippery gangster.  _ A murderer,  _ he recalls.  _ Or as good as... _

Yet despite his own discomfort, he scents the anger and anxiety flooding from the jackal in waves beneath that calm exterior. The elder behind him even seems wary, casting his boss an odd look from behind as he's handed the sodden cloth and tucks it into his breast pocket. "Where's the Detective?" No greetings or pleasantries, only an abrupt tone tinted with the expectation of obedience. "I've got his intel, so where is the bastard?" There's barely a second of silence before the gangster speaks again, his anger concealing emotions Sonic can't put his finger on when startled so badly. "Are you deaf, pup? I said _ where is Shadow?" _

"Ou-Outside!" He blurts out, not daring to look away from those mismatched irises even as without orders, Gray slips past them to retrieve the hedgehog. Sonic feels his stomach lurch at being left alone with the bloodied jackal and swallows hard, lips dried with fearful anticipation. Chaos knows what he'd done to Nack for that information. While the lack of any blood on the jackal's notorious fangs is a relief, there's still  _ so much of it.  _ "I-is he… Did you…?"

The jackal scoffs and rolls his shoulders, seemingly sore from the altercation as he sneers on the left rotation. "Don't worry, you'll get your arrest tomorrow. He's still breathing." Not a particularly reassuring statement, but Sonic nods once to acknowledge it, a little tension deflating in the air. The young hedgehog is stiff and poised for flight when their eyes meet again, unsettled by the man's calm acceptance of violence until a sigh catches him off guard. "I'm not going to hurt you, hedgehog." Small azure ears perk slightly at his tired tone. Infinite casually scratches his neck before adding. "You're the Detective's pup, not mine. Do what's asked of you in my Den, you're protected. You can relax."

Sonic doesn't get a chance to comment on the absurdity of that suggestion before Gray throws the door open, interrupting their moment of understanding and in retaliation, given no chance to speak before Infinite barks: "Well, where is the drunkard? Taking a piss?"

Amber irises stray from dichromats to meet uncertain emeralds accusingly. "Takin' th'piss more like," Gray growls, irritation potent in his tone. "He up an' pissed off already.


	20. Emotional Impracticality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all coming to a head. What has Shadow stumbled across? Is Infinite too late? Will I ever finish this fic?
> 
> Come join us on discord and be part of the debate.  
> https://discord.gg/NKxK4Rx

**CHAPTER TWENTY: EMOTIONAL IMPRACTICALITY**

_ "I'll be back when I've had the time to think everything over without unwanted interjection." _

The ebon steps outside and immediately sparks up, the fresh air chills Shadow's pelt even as the cigarette flares to life. He shivers, immediately regretting not grabbing his coat. The spring prevails over the coming summer still, leaving the air bitterly cold as the sun falls behind towering city structures. Shadow fluffs his coarse fur against the season and takes another deep puff of warming tar and smoke, billowing it from both nostrils as he looks towards the city centre.  _ The answer I need could be in that evidence box,  _ he considers.  _ I've not got my keys, but it's not much of a walk; a half hour at most. Knowing Fin, he'll take that long just to beat the little shit senseless. I could be back before he's done. _

Irritable muscles burn to do something, the Detective discontent to rely on the gangster or his minions' methodology. A scenario Shadow thinks of now, turning back toward the Den. He never usually brings suspects here, but the hedgehog had been angry, almost high on adrenaline and fishing for answers with no energy to work on the asshole overnight. Even if Infinite could be cruel to those deserving of his fury, Towers would've kicked off over extra wages, Eggman would've written the Detective up for going against policy and worst case scenario, he and Sonic would've been out of a job.

_ That doesn't change the facts,  _ he reminds himself, another deep drag burning the cigarette almost to the filter. He flicks it into the street without a second thought. This case might be closed, but for his own, the clues aren't adding up. With every resource scoured and lead followed up, there's still strings refusing to be incorporated, namely Eggman withholding evidence previously openly accessible and his firearm being present at the scene, despite it being a police issue.  _ I want to believe Nack somehow orchestrated it, but there's no motive. Why kill the Chaotic rights activist? How did Eggman get the gun, or even issue it to me in the first place? Being blackmailed you'd destroy it, not give it to a colleague. Unless he's holding it for some reason…? _

Tiring of conjecture and fingers restlessly empty, Shadow jams his freezing hands in his blazer pockets and starts walking, legs deciding for him there's work to do. He can't get written up if no one knows what he's doing, after all.  _ Pick the lock, find the box, study the evidence and put it back. It'll take an hour at most and I have all night. There's a link here. I'm going to find it. _

_ Time to see what you're concealing, Eggman. _

\--

It's been decades since Infinite last felt his blood turn to ice, an unmistakable side effect of not just concern, but abject  _ fear _ for the impulsive hedgehog. His mind momentarily shuts down, the reality of what Shadow could be walking into if he's returning to the precinct throwing a wrench in the gears. It's more intensely stilling than Infinite anticipated and he responds the only way he knows; turning on the remaining hedgehog with a snarl. "Did he say where he's going?" Irritatingly, the Junior Detective is as frozen as he had been moments before. The jackal fists his shirt and draws him closer, trying to snap him into usefulness. "Tell me where he's  _ gone _ , pup."

"I-I don't know," the azure stutters out, eyes as wide as saucers and ears folded flat to his skull. He doesn't dare grab the fist creasing his shirt but tilts off his heels to maintain balance. The gangster can smell the fear suddenly radiating off him potently. "We were talking about his case. The stuff that didn't make sense. Then his cig wouldn't light and he went outside to spark up and think more on his own. I thought he was gonna come back."

"So did he," Gray comments from the door. Both captor and his captee look over to see the elder motion to the Detective's hat and coat on the rack. "His starved ass'll be feelin' the chill, even after exercise. He woulda taken 'em if plannin' t'scarper."

A finger of dread stroking his spine, Infinite aggressively releases the azure, ignoring a grunt of discomfort as the Junior falls into a chair as he strides towards the coat rack. Gray takes a step back without being asked, leaving room for the jackal to grab a coat lapel and start searching through pockets. He honestly hopes to find just his keys. If Shadow took his gun, he's armed at least. If he's taken the car, they're further behind than following steps in the sand, enough time to be deadly if Nack has been truthful.

His claws close around the gun first. His gut sinks as he pulls the piece free of a pocket and momentarily stares at it, willing it to disappear. When it does no such thing, Infinite opens the barrel, gives a grunt of appreciation to find Shadow used just two shots to take down the weasel, then snaps it shut and stuffs the gun in his own blazer. "H-Hey!" The gangster ignores Sonic's shout, still hoping to find the car keys in another pocket. That doesn't stop the youngster protesting loudly from the seating area. "What're you doing?! When he comes back, he'll be super angry! That's-"

Locating the keys, Infinite closes his eyes in silent thanks before he fists them, turning on the azure with renewed distaste. "Are you always this dense, or is it past your bedtime?" He tosses the keys at Sonic, not waiting to see if he catches them. There's no time to waste as he addresses Gray. "Get Ash on the weasel. I'm not losing him a second time." He shrugs on his own coat and without needing a response from the old jackal to know he'll obey, continues briskly. "Then gather some boys and follow me to the precinct. If we're lucky, the Detective will have stopped for another gasper. We won't be too far behind."

Leaving Gray to his orders, the jackal turns on Sonic as he flips up his coat collar, finding little humour in the blank stare this so-called Detective in training is giving the keys he caught. "You can drive?" Wide emeralds snap to lapis and amber before he gives the barest of nods. The boy seems to be in shock. Hardly ideal for a future officer of the law. "Good. Go find a nurse, ferry them down to the police station and for Chaos' sake  _ don't  _ say I sent you, just say something believable to get them there. Can you manage that, Junior Detective?"

Another small nod and Infinite turns his back on the kid, unable to temper the frustration building beneath his pelt at just how useless this boy seems to be. He pauses to tuck his hair into the back of his coat and reaches for his hat, not stupid enough to risk walking through Lower Westside without the usual disguise with Nack in his holding room, even in the current situation. He's useless to the Detective dead or otherwise engaged by any Roughnecks still loyal enough to track down the missing leader. It's as he places the hat on his head, large ears slipped into cuts on the brim and angled down to conceal his face, that Sonic says a single word. "Why?"

He glances over a shoulder at the kid, gauging the concern and sudden influx of energy but unsure if he means why a medic or why he cares, Infinite answers both truthfully. "If anyone has to die tonight - if  _ Shadow  _ dies tonight - there'll be hell to pay." His eyes narrow in warning. "And I always collect my debts, pup."

\--

Arriving at the precinct, Shadow takes a moment to catch his breath. The walk had been about thirty minutes, far longer than he's done in a long time. A painful stitch stabs just below the ribs and with a grimace, the hedgehog presses his palm to the pain, taking a deep huff of chill air into lungs burning with exertion. Already cold he stops moving, tries to suppress a shiver and fails miserably, the involuntary spasm only making his side pang sharply.

_ Jesus Christ, it's like I ran a mile… _

The hedgehog knows he's unfit. During his months in the Squad, physical training was mandatory. The streets were dangerous at the best of times and Infinite was adamant anyone living under his roof were prepared to defend themselves in a pinch. A deal or collection could easily go wrong and your life might've relied on how quickly you could dodge a right hook. Taught by Gray at first then Infinite later, the ebon is competent when it comes to physical combat, but the decade and change since he moved out and failed to maintain his physique means Shadow is too weak to dish out or endure much punishment. 

Right now, he regrets it. Even as the stitch starts to fade and he dares to straighten up, Shadow resolves to ask the boss jackal to remind him what to do next time they cross paths.  _ At least I'm not hacking up a lung, but maybe the smokes need cutting too. They're fucking expensive. _

Recovering enough to walk, the ebon takes the steps to the door and tries the knob, entirely unsurprised to find it locked. A light click of the tongue at the inconvenience realising he won't be able to lock it again, Shadow grits his teeth, finds a healthy quill and tugs it from his head with a sharp hiss. It's a sting he's felt dozens of times after locking himself out. Ignoring the rapidly dulling discomfort, Shadow snaps the shaft in half and carefully works the tumblers within the lock, wondering absently if the sharp scraping sounds coming from it are why his own lock had become so unreliable over the years.

Just shy of thirty seconds later, the delightful sounds of the lock clicking open fills Shadow's perked ears. Opening the door with makeshift picks still embedded in the mechanism to be sure it's not a deadbolt tumbler, he then extracts the broken shaft pieces and tucks them into his blazer for later, Chaotic eyes adjusting to the inky darkness even as he closes the door. The lobby comes into sharp grayscale focus; Topaz's desk is organised and clear of papers, the door on the right to the main workfloor closed and also likely locked, the one on the left to the stairs similarly so.

With nothing to gather from his office, the Detective leaves that door locked for now, focusing his efforts on the left hand door. It pops open just as easily, giving Shadow access to a waiting room for concerned citizens and beyond a third door, the stairwell. In the basement lies the closed case records, interrogation rooms and holding cells. What he wants is on the first floor; the senior policemen offices but more importantly, cold case evidence and files storage. Muscles buzzing with energy at how close he could be to solving his case, Shadow takes the steps fast despite the burn in his legs and quickly finds the evidence room, a final lock between him and the truth.

At least, it was supposed to be.

Getting inside is easy, finding the correct shelf a breeze; he's had the case file memorised since he took it and the filing system is simple enough. What scuppers his optimism is reaching the spot the evidence should be and finding  _ nothing.  _ The cardboard box that looks like so many other evidence boxes, beaten and bent from age and repeated use, is absent. There's no withdrawal notice on the shelf, nothing documented in the log book at the front desk. Not even a clue except for the absence of thick dust where the box should have been, a ghost seemingly intended to taunt Shadow into anger that sees him slam a fist into the desk.

The commissioner must have it, the only logical explanation when evidence openly accessible longer than the ebon has been with the department vanishes. Clawed fingers curl on the wood as Shadow regains his composure, fangs bared and quills raised in afront. He may have intended to break into the precinct but not into his boss' office. That was more than illegal, but a breach of conduct; if Eggman found out, he'd also be headed for jail. 

_ I've come so far… is the truth worth everything I've worked for?  _

There's still time to turn around and go back to the Den. There's no obligation to risk his career or freedom for evidence that may not even exist, but by extension wasn't that abandoning their case, the sole reason Shadow became a Detective? Shouldn't it be pertinent to his career, his  _ dignity,  _ to solve their case even if he rots in Prison Island for breaking into Eggman's office? Claws marr the wood beneath and a snarl passes his lips, angry shakes wracking his frame for being forced because there's no decision to make.  _ I owe it to you both to continue, no matter the cost. _

Shadow pushes off the desk and turns sharply, not bothering to close the file room door behind him as he pulls the broken quill shaft from his blazer and strides for the Commissioner's office. Not trying the handle beforehand, the ebon stoops before the lock to work the tumblers only to find them already out of place. It gives Shadow pause as he straightens, frowning as he tucks his shaft pieces away. It brings caution to his step but Shadow still pushes the door open, the ominous creak of dry hinges setting his fur on edge as he steps inside and slowly closes the door.

It's expectedly dark. Shadow doesn't struggle seeing the room in grey scale though, Chaotic eyes well adjusted to the dim light by now. Eggman hasn't changed anything about his office since the ebon last visited; the L-Shaped room starts at a narrow seating area, leather couches and a glass-topped coffee table taking up most of the space opposite the door. A plant that brought colour to the room sits on a side table between an armchair and a sofa, a wall above the latter decorated with framed news clippings of the Commissioner's rise to authority and his achievements.

Once displayed prominently but now just another frame among dozens sits a clip that gives Shadow chills; the announcement of their first Chaotic employee. The photo of then newly-appointed Commissioner Eggman shaking the Governor of public sector relations' hand, a massive smile on moustached lips and no sign of Shadow himself in the picture. The event had been a media frenzy, rocketing Eggman and the department into the history books. Looking back on it, the ebon supposes that was what his boss wanted, all focus on his policies rather than the Chaotic he employed. Shadow hasn't minded at the time but now he snorts humorlessly. It makes his career farcical. 

_ What've you been hiding then, you egocentric bastard? _

Tearing crimson orbs from the wall, Shadow takes careless steps towards the wider part of the office. There's no need to be quiet when no one is there, after all. The filing cabinets and shelves sit straight ahead, while Eggman's desk is in the jut-out to the right. The ebon makes the decision to search as logically as possible, to begin at the shelving and filing cabinets and work his way to the desk, sure not to miss anything. Focused on his objective, he steps in front of the desk without glancing over, fingers itching to skim through the excessively organised files he knows await.

A sudden and brilliant light from his right halts the Chaotic in his tracks instantaneously, leaving the Detective blinded like a wild animal caught suddenly in lamplight. Grayscale vision washes in a painful white and Shadow gasps, recoiling into the back wall as his hand comes reflexively to shield his eyes. Instinct takes over and he tries to curl in on himself while still maintaining his feet, hunching forwards with quills bristled in warning, ears flat to his skull and fangs bared in a building snarl as he other hand goes to the gun in his coat only to find it absent.

_ I left without my coat. I'm unarmed. I have to- _

**B A N G**

**\--**

Despite not wishing to draw attention to himself, Infinite ends up jogging through the streets towards the Central District. Even as rain begins to fall, slickening the paving stones and pattering on the brim of his hat, thankfully not yet heavy enough to soak through his overcoat. Emotions swirling in his mind and stomach spur the gangster on faster; disbelief Shadow could be so stupid, anger he left without telling anyone, frustration all hedgehogs seem to have a death wish and  _ this one  _ in particular. But on top of it all, the worst and most nauseating realisation, is how much he  _ cares  _ if he gets himself skewered.

While the thoughts would still be fleeting and rapidly discarded, the canid had stopped trying to convince himself he didn't care for the grouchy Detective a decade ago. For the first time he'd  _ wanted  _ Shadow to come by, even been  _ excited  _ when their usual song and dance began. Of all the lays he's ever taken across his desk, none had made such an impact as Shadow seemingly had entirely by accident. It was supposed to be a temporary avenue of release, the burning of stress and tension in one another, an odd but mutually beneficial business transaction.

_ It was supposed to be just sex, like the others. _

For years their forays were irregular and aggressive, Shadow as disgusted in himself as he had been with the very prospect of sex to begin with, but as time went past the ebon got bolder; an invitation here or a demand for control there. Nothing kinky, not a handcuff to be seen, but all the same his continued confidence and refusal to be tamed like a member of the Squad held an air of intrigue; Infinite had not met another Chaotic like him; Gray would not dare to be so disobedient or blunt, nor rival gangsters he'd fought for territory had spoken with such flagrant disrespect. 

By the time they fucked it had tempered, but Infinite suspects he earned the hedgehog's begrudging respect through his help and how he managed his boys. The canid has never meant to be cruel to the undeserving of his wrath and despite his arrogance, Shadow wasn't someone who conjured ire. He was a mystery, a pet possessing the iron-clad will of a fighter and in return, the hedgehog earned mutual respect for his character and drive. It had been respect that led to Infinite tolerating his presence so often in the evenings after work, a habit that finally led to their first transaction and as they say, the rest became history.

Years later and they danced around each other as regularly as the Detective's progressively heavy workload allowed. Always at the Den, away from the prying eyes and ears of the apartment complex. Sometimes he would stay over and sleep in the office, others he'd drive home and fall into his own bed exhausted, but for Infinite it was always enjoyable. Memories that in solitude, could bring a smirk to his muzzle or the slightest wag of his tail. He began to crave not only their nights of release but the ebon's frequent company, finding amused solace in complaints about co-workers and cases as he downed glasses of cheap hooch.

_ I wasn't supposed to get attached. _

He rounds the last corner with a huff and pauses, staring up at the towering old building as he pants for breath. It was a long jog and while not winded, he'd rather be in top form once inside than struggling to ward off fatigue. Heavy breaths steam in the air before him as he searches for entry points besides the front door and quickly settles on the fire escape; someone would've been stupid enough to leave a window unlatched. An easy in to hopefully find Shadow and get him out before-

**B A N G**

Infinite's heart almost stops at the flash from inside an upstairs office, the piercing sound of a bullet being fired muffled by the closed window and distance. Previously relaxing muscles tense up and before he can even think, Infinite is leaping for the fire escape ladder tucked up off the ground, cursing when soaked metal slips right through his fingers and shakes in its housing. He snarls and throws his hat aside to see better, heart pounding in his ears and head clouded with adrenaline as he leaps once again and manages to grasp the rung securely. He doesn't pull it down but rather clambers up for efficiency, claws scraping on metal plates and shoes slipping on drenched rungs before he's sprinting lightly on the rattling framework for the second floor.

_ If you die now, I swear to Chaos I'll kill you myself. _


	21. Pandora's Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst dump. You have been warned.  
> Short but intense chapter.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: PANDORA'S BOX**

_ I left without my coat. I'm unarmed. I have to- _

**_B A N G_ **

The shot sets sensitive ebony ears ringing as the velocity of the bullet impact sends a jerk through his frame. In every previous situation, the bullets have been hot, an almost burning pain that crisped his focus. He's been shot through a shoulder and had numerous bullets skim so close it singed his fur. All of them came with an unyielding pain and sudden clarity of senses, of the distinct and immediate need to conclude the altercation and seek medical assistance for minor injury that can become dangerous.

This time, Shadow feels numb. His body is cold in the aftermath, the hedgehog barely able to comprehend Eggman still holding a smoking gun so casually at his desk, it feels like fiction. Yet the wall behind is hard and undeniably real. Crimson irises judder slowly from the nearly-black eyes of the Commissioner, his boss, to the injury in his lower left abdomen. Shaking fingers press to the slowly darkening fabric of his waistcoat and finally his senses return; Shadow gasps in agony and leans heavily on the wall, his pelt heating with terror and adrenaline as reality rapidly sinks in. 

_ This isn't another near miss- _

"I should have learned, from decades of disappointments, not to rely on others." Eggman sounds interspective despite his words, an obvious monologue that echoes in the ebon's hollow chest. Shadow can't look at him, can't take his eyes off the darkness on his fingers as they rise shakily level to his face. It's still too dark to discern the colour but he doesn't need clarification. He knows the warm, stickiness of blood too well. "But," the human states more offhandedly as his gun lowers to his desk, still clasped in a beefy hand. "That is the sad truth of trusting people, especially Chaotics. They can never  _ quite  _ reach my high expectations."

A desk light flicks on, drowning the hedgehog's vision in white a second time. The ebon squints against the brightness yet cannot pull his gaze from his furred digits caked in blood.  _ His blood.  _ The detective takes a sharp breath and immediately regrets it, a flux of air heavy scented with iron and sudden stretch of his thorax sending renewed pain through his body. It's too much at once; the signs and smells, the pain, the light. Even finally looking at the pompous old man illuminated by stark, yellow light, he sounds distant until he says two, unexpected words: "Even Gerald."

The ebon's stomach drops into his shoes and it shows on his face, for before he can even remember to breathe after being gifted that nugget of intelligence the Commissioner is smiling. "Then I am correct in thinking you knew them," he states rather than asks, leaning forward ever so slightly as his curling lips tilt the bushy moustache ends up in a manner that could have been comical to the ebon if he weren't slowly bleeding out. "And I am also correct suggesting  _ how.  _ Aren't I, ' _ little shadow'?" _

Shock finally becoming dislodged by abject fear of the danger he was already in and now, how deeply that ran, Shadow pushes off the wall and stumbles a step towards the seating area, intent on getting away. Fight becomes blind panic as he drips precious beads of liquid life in his wake, smearing it on the wall and his own body and clothes as he scrabbles for the door. Behind him, Eggman sighs heavily as he stands, the muted  _ clink  _ of metal on wood as he raises his firearm once more. "You've always made it difficult, haven't you Hedgehog? Never once simply submitting to your superior. An irritating trait for any Chaotic."

Shadow stumbles and falls to his knees, gasping aloud as the jolt sends agony through his body. Dark fingers pressed to the raw flesh in his lower abdomen are matted with blood muted by his own ebony shade. If not for a stench of fresh iron it could simply be wet. "I was waiting for Nack to come back and tell me you're finally dead," the Commissioner comments absently, advancing on the struggling Chaotic lazily with no need to chase wounded prey. "I would have killed him too, wrapped up the loose ends myself rather than rely on him to keep his mouth shut, finally an end to this  _ incessant  _ focus on the Professor's  _ mysterious _ death."

A large hand closes around the hedgehog's scruff and hauls him to his feet, only to throw him against the nearest wall. Shadow whimpers as the cold gun barrel presses to the back of his head. "Had I known Nack lied to me and let you live, I would have had you framed for the murders and shipped off to Prison Island in a heartbeat." The hand on his scruff releases, lingering on shaking shoulders in warning even if not restraining him. The barrel at his head is enough to keep Shadow still. "Now tell me; what deal did you barter with the disloyal weasel? Did he get you papers? What have you paid him in return?"

Despite his position, the pain and dizzying levels of adrenaline, the Detective laughs. The gun muzzle presses harder against the back of his skull, compressing his forehead to the cold wall, but already high on hopelessness Shadow dares to glance at the old man over his shoulder. "Y-You think I made a deal?" He asks with a smirk on his face. More laughter bubbles in his throat but the ebon swallows it down, not wishing to die before he hears the full story behind his case. He owes his family that much. "I was out buying groceries." A mocking sentiment creeps into his tone without his consent. Shadow doesn't care. "Supplies for Maria's caretaker for the following day, wh-while we met the Senator-"

"You're lying," Eggman growls, roughly turning the hedgehog to his back and pressing the firearm muzzle between his eyes, flat teeth bared in anger when Shadow grunts, only to smile at the weak display of force. "I refuse to believe the last twenty years of my life was dictated by that idiotic weasel choosing the wrong time to act. You were supposed to be  _ dead,"  _ he snarls, barrel pressing so hard into the hedgehog's flesh it meets resistance from the skull beneath. "Their case would have been forgotten without your interference. The  _ probability  _ you speak the truth is  _ miniscule,  _ so tell me the  _ truth." _

"Now we b-both know the truth," the ebon whispers, the cogs finally slipping into place with this last piece of information. "All I can't fathom… is  _ w-why _ ."

Something shifts in the Commissioner's features. The creases of fury flatten to lines of age even as the firearm slightly lifts from ebony fur. "You would not understand," Eggman states flatly, an air of emotion Shadow can't identify in his tone. Something akin to dejection. The moment passes; vulnerability soon becomes a familiar frown, one Shadow recognises so vividly it sends a chill down his spine and makes an obvious connection in the matrix in his head. He's so distracted he barely hears the man's next words. "You have no parents, no family. It would mean nothing beyond words to a Chaotic."

"They were m-my family," Shadow growls, quills raised against the wall despite how much it hurts to tense his muscles. Fangs dyed yellow by the dim, distant lamp light glisten with spit as his lips shiver with pain. Dislike for the human has quickly morphed into hatred. Never before has he wanted to rip anyone's throat out until now. "They were my family and you t-took them-"

The human presses a palm to Shadow's neck.  _ "You were a pet." _

_ "I was more like family then you!"  _ Shadow spits the words at his captor, uncaring now if he got shot through the skull for the trouble. His eyes are hard and accusatory, teeth barely keeping a snarl in his throat as they grind between statements. "I'm right, a-aren't I? I see him in your f-face. The resemblance is uncanny, when you know what to look for." Tan lips twist in disgust. "You had your o-own relatives, an old man and  _ dying granddaughter  _ m-murdered,  _ my family,  _ who I loved and  _ appreciated _ . W-What gave you the  _ r-r-right-" _

Eggman tightens his grip on the hedgehog's throat, leaning in close as the Chaotic takes hold of his fist, struggling to breathe. His grip is feeble, representative of his current physical state. A dead man walking who could tell no tales. "Because the old sod abandoned me," he whispers harshly, taking the gun from the ebon's head but pressing it to the underside of his jaw in threat, a warning to behave. "Like my deadbeat father and depressed mother, as soon as I carved my own path in life he dropped me faster than a doodlebug on Main Street. Why? I did not want to be a  _ doctor _ like him. I wanted to study criminal psychology, not practical psychiatry, something  _ tangible  _ rather than guesswork. I was told to be a doctor, or find my own funds. I did the latter."

The human laughs dryly. "Then, he had the audacity not to make contact until needing  _ my  _ financial aid; the girl he took in, my genetically inferior cousin, contracted Consumption. He needed help to pay medical bills and hire a carer. You know what I did?" A malicious smile curls fleshy lips. "I told him to save himself the money, that she was as good as dead anyway. When he hung up and never called back, I thought perhaps he'd seen sense and sent the child to a sanitorium. That we would reconcile "

The edges of Shadow's vision have begun to go hazy, his airway too restricted to supply enough oxygen. In desperation, he stops pressing on his wound to grasp the fist with both hands but his claws scrabble uselessly over the elder's driving gloves. "But no," the Commissioner continues without a scrap of relent. "In a senile attempt to pacify his own ridiculously Christian morality, he decided not only got a  _ Chaotic maid  _ but to  _ teach it to parrot Humanity.  _ Do you know how  _ insulting  _ that is? To be replaced by a  _ hedgehog?  _ For your relatives to think less of you than glorified  _ rodents and Tamed beasts?" _

Firearm pressing back into his lower jaw, Shadow can barely shift the pressure off his neck, let alone dislodge a barrel now dangerously positioned at his throat, choking out a whine that only spurs the old man on. "He wanted to make the whole world feel the same way," Eggman utters, leaning back to regard his captive. Thick fingers dig deeper in flesh, bruising the struggling Chaotic's.  _ Chaos,  _ it's satisfying to see his grandfather's legacy squirm. "Inadequate compared to a poster Chaotic. In a strange way, I suppose that wish was fulfilled; you were the first pet to get a job in law enforcement, even had a successful career. At least he would be proud of  _ one of us  _ becoming officers."

Blood trickles down the ebon's leg beneath his slacks, waistcoat and shirt tails sodden and crimson. He's losing focus, losing the ability to fight as Eggman leans in closer again. "What a shame it was built on lies and forged papers. How unfortunate I found out, confronted you and when threatened, defended myself. It's not a  _ great loss  _ to the department, but will be to the Chaotics Employment Drive. I'll have it scrapped within the year, thanks to  _ your _ inadequacy. How  _ proud  _ Grandfather would be of-"

Shadow takes the opportunity to spit directly into his right eye.

With an almost inhuman screech of surprise and pain, Eggman lurches away and in doing so, releases his grip on the hedgehog. Shadow falls to the floor gasping for air but already trying to get away, the world tilting on its axis as he crawls towards the door. He doesn't get far on his hands and knees before being hoisted off his jellied limbs by the scruff of the neck once more. Sure he wouldn't survive another strangulation, he writhes and squirms in the human's iron grasp, no longer feeling his injuries while in an animalistic mania fuelled by survival instinct. 

Claws lash out and scratch anything within range, limbs fly wide, his head thrashes from side to side, but it's as claws rake across a fleshy cheek the old man snarls and throws Shadow so hard into the opposite wall, he yelps pitifully before crashing down to the sofa beneath. There he stays, slumped on his side with pain crashing back down in excruciatingly fresh waves, whimpering as his heartbeat throbs in every bruise and most pertinent in his abdomen wound, a sure precursor to death he finally welcomes. 

Tears sting his eyes not from physical trauma but emotional, for all the lost years and forgotten moments with his family, how a selfish man with a petty grudge snuffed out two lives and ruined another for his own ego. Wet crimsons crack open blearily to see the old man stood by the door with pistol raised, his own fresh blood trickling down his cheek and heavy breaths the only sound in the room besides Shadow's quiet whines of pain. The battered ebon doesn't even try to move; eyes fluttering closed in silent acceptance of the bullet about to enter his brain, claws curled into the sofa cushions in preparation for impact, he prays sincerely for the first time in over a decade.

_ Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. _

The firing pin clicks and Shadow squeezes his eyes shut, tears flowing into the fabric as his claws catch and tear loose threads. He thinks now of the life he's made since their passing. Of his newly acquired partner likely about to be fired, old Schlemmer and his bizarrely dark sense of humour, even Rouge and the tab he owes the skinflint chameleon his meagre possessions couldn't ever be used to repay. It all seems to pointless, so idiotic to have gotten attached to anything again because for all he would deny it when asked, he cared for all of them. 

_ Have mercy on my soul, for I were devout in faith. _

Then he thinks of Infinite and his stomach turns to stone as their entire relationship flashes through his mind; conscription, that early tentative trust and respect Fin offered when making their first deal, how confused and nervous he'd been about wanting the jackal's company and eventually, taking it further. They've had years to enjoy but never gotten past the first hurdle, never even a kiss or a mutually accepted embrace outside of sex. It's a thought that hollows the stone inside and turns it instead into a cavern of despair, realising on the verge of finality he's still yet to actually  _ live. _

_ Bless those I leave behind with thy love, in my stead- _

"Any last words?" It's almost mocking in tone, finding humour in his suffering. Ears folding back and quills submissively flat to his back, Shadow doesn't give him the satisfaction of a response. A short silence preludes an irritated huff and the human readjusts his stance, heavy shoes clomping on the floor. "Fine, if that is what you wish.

" _ Goodbye, Shadow the Hedgehog.  _

_ "Thank you for your service." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> 
> https://discord.gg/NKxK4Rx


	22. Divine Retribution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just desserts are best served bloodied.  
> Edit: Fun facts; this chapter was so dramatic it locked me out for a half hour. Enjoy~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs:  
> Detailed character death.  
> Referenced physical abuse.  
> PTSD flashback.  
> Descriptive injury and minor torture.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: DIVINE RETRIBUTION**

_Infinite doesn't pull the ladder down but rather clambers up for efficiency, claws scraping on metal plates and shoes slipping on drenched rungs before he's sprinting lightly on the rattling framework for the second floor._

_If you die now, I swear to Chaos I'll kill you._

\--

The room from which the flash came has the blinds drawn, the spindly wooden rungs not enough to hide light from inside but certainly shield the occupants from sight. A tug of the frame and finding it locked, Infinite doesn't waste any more time on it. He drags himself away to the next window and curses this one isn't open either, rain beginning to soak his hair and face without the protection of his hat. The jackal doesn't want to break a window unless absolutely necessary; the element of surprise might be all he has. Throwing it away would be foolish.

There's one last window, office within shrouded in shadows his mismatched gaze picks apart with ease. A heavy wooden desk, a wall of bookshelves heavily stocked with old leather spines, the plant placed beside a comfortable looking sofa on the far wall as healthy as ever, despite the cold. An important man's office, for sure. Uncaring for his station, Infinite curls his claws beneath the frame and feels relief as it yields, drawing the frame up just far enough to slip inside before carefully resetting it in place.

Finding Shadow is the priority, not this man's pride. He's an idiot for leaving his window unlatched but apparently not so stupid as to leave his office equally acessable. With a low growl, Infinite is about to press his claws into the mechanism and work it open when muffled voices in the next room catch his attention. _"Then I am correct in thinking you knew them… aren't I, little Shadow?"_ A brief silence follows before scrabbling ensues; the _thump_ of a body being pushed from the wall and scrape of claws on plaster, harsh breaths and scuffling sounds, a panic that sends dread deep into the jackal's stomach because Shadow has never lost his composure in a confrontation before.

_The gunshot; he's hurt._

Infinite jams his claws into the lock with renewed vigor, his fangs bared into a sneer as he tries to stay level-headed despite what can be heard through just inches of brick and plaster. A misstep and he loses progress, precious seconds he'll never get back as someone stumbles and falls in the adjacent room. They're light, a Chaotic certainly. While he is yet to hear Shadow speak it can't be anyone else being taunted. _"You've always made it difficult, haven't you hedgehog?"_ The jackal tries to focus on his task but can't help overhear the words. _"Never once simply submitting to your superior. An irritating trait for any Chaotic."_

The gangster tunes it out with difficulty. He knows what the old Human did, thanks to Nack spilling his guts in the interrogation room. He doesn't have many specifics, but that hardly matters. Nack was supposed to return to the station and report both the hedgehog and Schlemmer dead _tonight,_ an obvious trap for an idiotic bottom-feeding gangster too concerned about his pay to realise he was set up to perish. Eggman had decided it was time to cut his losses and tie up loose ends. In his haste for answers, the Detective stumbled into the trap laid for his assassin.

Once again euphoria cascades through Infinite as the lock finally gives. Relief quickly becomes concern when Shadow is thrown against the wall again so forcefully, the jackal hears him grunt in pain. It's been so long since the gangster heard the hinge of life and death being worked that he freezes. Weakly, uselessly, an ear on the ensuing conversation even as the words pass through him without meaning. It's been decades since his last defensive kill but he remembers them all, especially his first and last; the Owner Jack and the Beast of Westside respectively.

_I don't recall ripping Jack's throat out, though..._

Unconsciously, the jackal's tail curls against a leg as recollections long since suppressed come back in rapid succession; deafening volumes of cheers and jeers from drunken Humans, the cement stained with prior opponent's blood beneath bare claws, tracks of the constant struggles for dominance before the final strike a trough for freshly spilled crimson. He can see it in his mind's eye now; the arena in his owner's back yard, chain links hooked to the ceiling and cemented into the floor to keep spectators of a macabre sport safe from Chaotic fury, sawdust scattered on the dull grey floor after every fight...

_It stinks of iron and gouged flesh, the raw scent of life, of death. Piss and shit and vomit, all clouded by an acrid scent of illegally brewed beer. Humanity's stench is infinite here, a sharp cloud of sweat and body odour, of excess and privilege. Sawdust masks so little of their own disgusting existence and yet it's all the proprietor will ever throw down. The Chaotics are what he finds disgusting. Their blood, despite condoning it be shed. The contents of bowels and bladders evacuated on the cusp of death in terror. Their spit and rage, poorly contained within the chains Jack erected especially for his prized pet, the Blue-Eyed Reaper._

_It's a world where the scarred jackal has no freedoms and even less control. An existence of fear, consequences that outweigh the crime and drunk rages. Days without food for a misstep in a fight, weeks of daily training until his muscles ache and his claw beds bleed from use. A lash for being too slow. A dozen if he dared express displeasure. Winning fights pleases Jack and the Reaper will do anything to delay another punishment. He trains so hard he'll sleep soundly, eats tasteless food maintaining his physique, won't look his Owner in the eye to show respect. If he-_

A shout of pain drags a dazed Infinite back to the present. His body buzzes with enough adrenaline to revive the dead, nausea coursing through his stomach and gut intensifying when Shadow can be heard in a frenzy behind the wall. Another, human cry of pain, and then the worst sound yet; the _thud_ of a body hitting a different wall followed by deafening silence. Heavy breaths and a hiss of pain from the Human but nothing from Shadow, mouth finally, unexpectedly, silenced. 

Already fearing the worst, the _click_ of the firing pin being pulled back for a second shot is both reviving and terrifying. _He's still alive_. It's the only thought he processes before he pushes into the hall and comes immediately upon a stairwell of metal diving into the darkness below. Thankfully bordered by railings, Infinite doesn't fly head first into the abyss but rebounds off with a turn on a heel, already reaching for the borrowed pistol in his coat as he approaches the nearest door on the same floor. 

_"Goodbye, Shadow the Hedgehog._

_"Thank you for your service."_

The jackal barges inside without pause, slamming the door open as hard as he can. A satisfying _crack_ sounds as the wood makes contact with an unsuspecting face, sending the Human stumbling back grunting in pain. Infinite takes as little time as possible to assess the room; Shadow curled in on himself on a sofa, the wall above speckled with droplets of blood around a deeper impact point. It smells of fresh iron, suggesting there's far more he can't see spilt. Taking a moment to sit the whimpering hedgehog up, he sees the gunshot. Shadow needs urgent medical care. 

_Hold on, Detective. Your pup's on his way._

In comparison, Eggman has just a few scratches on his face and a bruise now blossoming around a deeper gash on a cheekbone thanks to the sharp edge of the door. Hatred not only for this man but the entirety of Human life flaring as he straightens up, Infinite snarls and positions himself between the Commissioner and his Detective with the incriminating pistol in hand. "You had my _pup killed_ ," the jackal spits through his teeth, enjoying both the sudden fear and deep confusion on the senior human's flabby features. "And now, you try to kill _my hedgehog?"_

Infinite raises the gun and draws the pin. _"Fuck you, asshole."_

The shot rings out before Eggman can raise his gun, the judder of taking a bullet wracking the elder's frame before time seems to slow. Thick fingers eventually shudder, then drop the firearm without recovering his aim. It's the clatter of deadly metal on bare board that resumes the world's turn; the commissioner lets out an unsteady gasp and takes a step back, an equally unstable hand coming to the blossoming wound in his own abdomen. It's nearly identical to the one he inflicted except for a single, major difference; Infinite made sure to hit his intestinal tract squarely. 

Eggman takes his imminent demise without dignity; a horrified cringe marrs his face before quickly morphing into terror, heavy feet stumbling back as frantic hands try to stem the flow. A futile move; Infinite was sure to impose a wound with a high chance of lethality without prompt medical care, a luxury the jackal isn't planning to offer the Human shitstain that stumbles into a filing cabinet and falls heavily on his plump ass.

A high whine of distress from behind and his focus shifts back to the bleeding hedgehog. Placing the firearm on the side table, he kneels before Shadow and inspects the wound closely, finding it to be slightly lower and closer to his side. Relief floods Infinite's senses enough to realise it'll still kill him if the flow of blood isn't stemmed. With his jaw set, he glances to the hedgehog's terrified gaze before following it to his gun "Calm down," he orders, aware of the idiocy of the request in such circumstances. "Panic makes you bleed out faster. You need to calm down, Shadow. Breathe."

"H-He killed-" Struggling to voice thoughts, Shadow whimpers in a pitch he's never used before. High and afraid, uncertainty that echoes in wavering crimson irises bloodshot with tears. "F-Fin, I- He k-k-killed-"

"I know," the canid interrupts, for a second time recently unsure what to do with his hands. The scowl he wears feels wrong, but Infinite can't seem to find an adequate expression either, so he leans heavily on his tone. The tone Gray would use to comfort a youngster. Softer. Understanding. Level. "I'm sorry they're dead, but unless you want to join them you need to stay calm. Do you understand me? Can you hear what I'm saying?"

Infinite begins to shred his shirt and vest for makeshift gauze. In response, the detective's entire body shudders and presses back into the sofa, making the job ten times harder. "I've b-been… I held it…" Glazed eyes stray back to the abandoned weapon and for a moment Shadow dry-heaves like he's going to hurl, only to swallow it back with a disgusted groan. When their eyes meet, usually vibrant rubies seem darkened with pain and despair, too distant to focus beyond his own mind. "He gave m-me the g-gun N-Nack held… I used it a-a-all this t-time…"

_"That's a no,"_ the dichromatic Chaotic mutters under his breath. With about a third of the detective's shirt shredded, he balls it into an absorbent wad and presses it firmly to the wound. The hedgehog hisses in pain and doubles over, clasping at the cause of his discomfort before trying to pull the hand and wadding off. Infinite doesn't relent. "It hurts, but will slow the bleeding. You need to hold it there so I can-"

Ebon ears fold and fangs bare as Shadow shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut against the agony still being inflicted on his body. He's too weak to pull the jackal's hand away, but that doesn't mean he doesn't fight with the firm fingers, gumming pristine, monochromatic fur with congealing red from his own. "I can't. _Please, stop._ It h-hurts so much Maria, please-" Tears flow once again, interrupting desperate pleas for a dead woman to end his suffering. Infinite can't believe its the same stubborn asshole he dealt with for decades that, with watering eyes, whispers painfully. 

_"Let me go, I can't bear it."_

It's the first time Infinite feels something other than confusion. A rearing and almost reflexive refusal to comply. Clawed fingers dig the gauze deeper into the wound without meaning to before the jackal relents just as quickly, guilt at the whimper he draws from the hedgehog, _his hedgehog._ It's the realisation he can't let him go when he's never really had him to begin with; they've spent so long dancing around, finding excuses and blaming the circumstances of their fates for continued interaction but reality is a far cry from the fantasy they've constructed.

He can't let Shadow die. It's not possessive desire or the loss of control but an emotion, a feeling this arrogant asshole has to be more than a fleeting memory. The ebon is a cog in Infinite's life, colours where the monochrome of constant struggle and pain threatens to drown the jackal when he's left alone for too long. The Squad had patched the hole for years but Shadow stitched the wound back together, unknowingly but thoroughly, and now Eggman's threatened to rip them out before the flesh can heal.

Reflex is all he has, so he complies; instincts that saved his life in the ring now guide Infinite forward as he raises a bloodied hand to the shuddering hedgehog's face, cupping his cheek. Mindful for once of his claws, he gently pulls up his Detective's muzzle so their eyes meet. There's a moment both of their breaths seize in unconscious anticipation and then Infinite's eyes flutter closed, almost too nervous to keep looking in case Shadow should reject what is about to happen.

White lips meet tans, and the world melts away.

The male's lips are unexpectedly soft, flesh flavoured by residual smoke and cheap whiskey that masks an inherent taste Infinite wishes there was more of. The taste of Shadow, _his Detective._ It taunts him at the edge of consciousness, daring him to deepen the kiss and find more of that intoxicating essence. Both pairs of lips are awkward and uncertain but it's enough; when the jackal pulls back a second later Shadow tries to lean forward and keep him enraptured, only to hiss and cringe as his abdomen smarts. He's more focused now though, a glint back in his eyes even as he bleeds. "F-Fin, I-"

"You can tell me later," Infinite interrupts, pushing the ebon into the cushions with a palm on his chest, other still holding the wad of fabric to his wound. He pushes the wad more firmly to draw Shadow's attention and make a point. "Hold this firmly. Try not to move." The jackal takes his hand and presses it in place of his own, covering the ebony fist with monochromatic a sliver of a second. "Your pup's on his way. Just sit tight."

With that he straightens, turning on Eggman with a murderous scowl. He's still in a state of distress, sweating profusely as he holds a palm to his wound in a pathetically shaky attempt to postpone the inevitable. A flash of fangs and a low snarl, Infinite advances on him; how small the previously towering man looks as he cowers against the filing cabinets that shudder noisily in time with his fear. It's highly satisfying to stare down his snout at the man responsible for so much of his own and the Detective's pain knowing he's getting his just desserts. 

"You're going to die here," the jackal states, unable to keep the sneer that curls his lips from forming as he squats before the old Human. He lowers his voice to a harsh whisper and leans a palm on the cabinet by his head, enjoying the scent of fear pooling in Eggman's dilated pores. "Your little rat squealed like a pig, Ivo." As expected, the name drains what remains of the blood from his face, Eggman shrinking even further against the cabinet. "He did some digging himself, surprisingly. Not entirely stupid after all, to want dirt on his employer, but it means every _scandalous secret_ he unearthed about you will be in the press by lunchtime. Isn't that delightful? Your legacy tarnished by the word of those you so feverently despise."

Eggman's chest heaves, eyes wide in disbelief. The gangster can only chuckle before suddenly, _violently_ thrusting his claws into the open wound oozing blood. The cry of pain brings a devilish smile to white lips before he _twists_ just as suddenly, relishing the increased blood flow his abuse encourages. "You've hurt my Detective for the last time," he hisses in an ear, fingers buried in heated flesh dripping thick, red fluid. A flex of his claws and the man whimpers pitifully. "Enjoy hell, asshole," he finishes, pulling his fingers free with claws still flexed, splattering himself with red dots of blood and tissue without care. "You won't be missed."

The man shakes violently, eyes wide and mouth agape, his three chins easily visible as he crumples on himself. His muscles lose their tension slowly; first extremities, then his trunk and finally, his head lolls. The entire time he judders and gasps, wild eyes locked on the canid splattered with blood straightening before him, sweat matting his moustache and soaking his collar until at last, after what seems like forever, the Human falls still. His eyes dull, the life draining out of them with the liquid pooling around his slumped form. 

Only then does Infinite remember to breathe.

_"Shit,"_ Gray states empathetically from the door. The gangster boss turns to find his right hand staring at Shadow, claws stilled on his chin in thought. Amber irises soon scour the room to find his boss and the deceased human at his feet. "Jesus _Christ,_ Boss. How're we s'pposed to clear this up before the Detective's pet gets up 'ere?" Infinite looks away from the elderly jackal to gaze at Eggman - Ivo Robotnik, the Professor's grandson and cousin to the girl - without compassion. "He's already pullin' up outside."

"We don't," the younger canid states, only now noticing blood on his fingers. He wipes them on his coat in a vain attempt to clean it off. "The man hired Nack to kill the hedgehog. When he failed, Shadow came to confront him and got shot. He fired back in self defence and killed him, while his Junior, left outside, heard the shots and went for help. He wasn't fast enough to save the Human. There was still time for Shadow; they administered emergency medical aid and took him to a hospital."

He casts a tired gaze to Gray, trying not to hyperfocus on the ebon's disquieting whines and obvious discomfort behind him. "Get the boys out of sight and set Ash to keep tabs on him. Have Destiny prepped to take his shift come morning, too. I want ears on the Detective's condition until he stabilises." He pauses with a frown before adding: "That's after you scout out the precinct's surroundings. Make sure the Roughnecks aren't primed to interfere with transit to the hospital, then get back to the Den. And remember; none of you were here." 

The old dog nods and does as ordered, leaving his boss alone with the Detective once more. Shadow's attempts to save face while his life literally drains away are heartbreaking, but the jackal can't show weakness now. It could break the stubborn ebon's resolve and then, he would certainly die. Closing the distance between them, he takes careful hold of the Detective's firearm and despite the immediate recoil, forces it into his left hand. "It was self defense," he reminds Shadow, that same soft, level tone. "Just hold it for three minutes. Tell Sonic you shot him, then drop it. Can you manage that, Detective?"

Hope floods Infinite from ear tips to paw pads when Shadow breathes a weak _yes_. "Your pup is here. He brought a doctor. I have to go before they get upstairs, but you know where to find me. Come tell me your thoughts later."

Then he leaves before he finds reason to stay. He can't, not with potential witnesses already calling for Shadow downstairs. He's out of the window and down the fire escape before they make the second floor landing, already digging for a lighter, stripping off his coat and undoing his shirt. He'll have to walk back to the Den bare as an Owned Chaotic, but it doesn't matter. Focusing on destroying any evidence he'd been there keeps him from the _what if's_ dominating his consciousness.

_What if, after all that, he still dies…?_


	23. Immediate Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonic finds himself picking up the pieces not only for his injured mentor's cold case but a far more recent one. Is he as capable as everyone seems to think he is?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been three weeks but we're back with emotions.  
> Come join us on discord to chat and shit between chapters.  
> https://discord.gg/reCxjtm

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: IMMEDIATE AFTERMATH**

When Sonic bursts into the Commissioner's office, Shadow is in a state; barely conscious, covered in blood and grasping his gun in a shaking hand. Eggman lay against the filing cabinets in the other side of the room, a single gunshot wound to his abdomen and his own gun a few feet away, blood pooling around his still form. "He k-killed them. My case, h-he-" The wound still bleeds as Sonic kneels in front of him, pressing the wad of cotton made from Shadow's own shirt firmly into the wound. The ebon gasps and swallows hard, dark fingers clenching in the sodden cloth at his own abdomen. The makeshift gauze is already soaked with hot blood. "I-Ivo shot me, so I sh-shot back. It hurts, please…"

The azure recalls yelling for Vanilla and her apprentice midwife, both of whom he'd practically forced into the car at the hospital before their shift ended. They come flying up the stairs, Vanilla not hesitating to shoo Sonic from the detective's side as his eyes roll back and his hand slackens, releasing the gun to the floor. She checks his breathing with a cold, metal disc, his heart with a stethoscope so cold the unconscious hedgehog shudders, then sets to work replacing the wet cotton wad with clean medical bandages and padding. 

Obviously taken aback by the carnage, the feline remains frozen in the door until Vanilla addresses her by name. "Millie, check the Commissioner's vitals." The pale girl nods and approaches the human's slumped form with caution, careful not to step in the blood pooling around his left side. She takes his pulse and checks for breath while Sonic loiters between the two medics, unable to take his eyes off the lifeless black pits that used to be Eggman's irises. The feline mutters a familiar final respects rite, a Chaotic farewell usually saved for the edge of deathbeds or funerals, before gently closing his eyes. It adds an unsettling facade of peace to the elderly human's anguished expression. 

Sonic moves to close his mouth but still unaccustomed to death, recoils finding the body still warm to the touch. Millie gives him a sympathetic look. Whatever she wants to say is lost when she snaps around to her mentor's voice though, an urgent tone the azure is drawn to as well. "The Detective needs treatment at a hospital," Vanilla asserts with authority, aware Eggman is a lost cause from the cat's quiet prayer to Chaos. She doesn't spare the old man a glance as deep, emotive hazels focus on Sonic, brimming with concern. "Are you capable of carrying him to the car? If we wait for the on-call doctor to respond with a wagon, it may be too late."

He's scooping up Shadow in lieu of actually replying, careful not to jostle him too much when the movement makes him cringe. He weighs very little even for a hedgehog, a species known for featherlight bone structures and lower muscle mass for speed. He sends Millie ahead with the keys to put the back seats down, the best they can do without waiting for a wagon. Then with the rabbit's help, carefully maneuvers his mentor down the flight of stairs, carrying him like a bride across the home threshold. He's dripping on the steps, old blood Vanilla assures him when a drop on his loafer has Sonic panic on the last step and then they're out in the cool evening air where Millie waits in agitation.

Time is of the essence, but the azure won't rush and neither of the medics tries to. Causing more damage for speed's sake could be fatal. Between them, they carefully lay him across the back seats, resting his head in Millie's lap. He hears whispered words of reassurance as she strokes his quills, soothing erratic breaths and relaxing quivering muscles. Sonic stands frozen, the door in his hand until Vanilla gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, her eyes sharp and apologetic. "I will call a detective and a coroner. Make sure he gets the attention he needs. He has faith in you. It is time to prove it wasn't misplaced."

With a grim frown, Sonic nods and slams the door, taking just a second to give Vanilla his supervisor's card before slipping into the driver's seat. Towers won't be happy being woken up, but with Eggman dead and Shadow on death's door, there's no one else to call. "Ready?" He asks over his shoulder as he starts the car, certainly not feeling it. When she doesn't reply it's not a shock. "Me neither. So where's the nearest hospital, Mil?"

\--

Shadow doesn't take the ride well; the roads in Lower Central are badly maintained and scattered with potholes, each one hitting the ebon right in the gut or ribs. It's hard to focus on the road to the tune of groans of pain, grunts of discomfort and Millie's soft tones becoming more concerned as his wound begins to soak the new bandages. Initially, they head for the nearest Chaotic Hospital, but as time passes and Shadow's condition worsens it becomes obvious there's not enough time. Against the feline's recommendation, Sonic swerves off course instead for a Human hospital at least twenty minutes closer, hoping for a miracle.

Not even allowed inside to begin with, the junior flashes his mentor's badge and requests a stretcher, not mentioning the patient was also Chaotic. Personnel quickly go into emergency mode and have a stretcher in the parking lot within the minute, but stop short of pulling the patient from the car upon realising he isn't human. The attending nurse rolls her eyes when Sonic demands he be treated like any other patient. "He's got fur," she states blandly, affirmative mutters around her from her peers. "I know that's normal to  _ you,  _ but to us that's  _ not  _ a patient. Try the Chaotics' Hospital in Lower Westside."

The azure is near tears but they're angry, irritated this woman would decide another living thing wasn't worth her time simply because of some fur. "He hasn't  _ got time,"  _ he iterates with an urgent air. The Human seems unmoved by his plight and Sonic glares daggers, pulling his trump card. "Do you know who he is? This isn't my badge, it's  _ his,  _ and if you actually  _ read it  _ you'd know he's Detective Chief Inspector of the Station Square Police Department Chaotics Quarter. He's been  _ shot  _ in the abdomen and will  _ bleed out  _ before we even get to Lower West, let alone get him in a hospital. So're you gonna treat him, or do I have to tell Superintendent Towers his best Detective  _ died _ because a nurse here is jealous he has more  _ hair than them?" _

Minutes later, Sonic finds himself alone in the waiting room, his hands filled with paperwork he can't actually fill out and being scrutinized by a dozen pairs of critical Humans awaiting loved ones emerging from overnight stays and emergency treatments. The right side of his suit sticks to his fur and skin with dry blood he hadn't noticed, but won't wash out at the sink. Sonic ends up removing his jacket and being thankful he wore a dark shirt that day, returning to the waiting room colder but less conspicuous. 

_ If only I could not be Chaotic for an evening… _

Hours pass before he hears anything, and it's from Towers. The man turns up in Central Hospital unshaven but neatly dressed, a hard scowl on his face. It doesn't take much to convince a doctor to loan the old man a room and suddenly, for the first time that night, silence descends on azure ears. Sonic takes a deep breath and willingly drinks in it, finally away from the whispers about his ruined pants and the incessant beeping of equipment. Not that it lasts long. "Tell me what happened," Towers orders. It's deep and formal, his tone setting cerulean hackles on edge as he continues. "Why did I get a call from a  _ midwife _ just before midnight, Junior Detective? Why were you even  _ there at all?" _

Details. What  _ did happen?  _ Uncertain jades meet dichromats so resemblant of the jackal's, it throws the hedgehog off. How he'd never noticed they both had heterochromia made him feel like a terrible detective, but that wasn't the focus right now. He clears his throat, preparing to be vague so Shadow can fill the holes. "Commissioner Eggman denied us access to the Robotnik case evidence yesterday afternoon, Sir. A few hours later, an attempt was made on DCI Shadow's life. He couldn't settle a feeling the two were linked and Eggman was hiding something, so we went back off the clock to investigate-"

"You  _ broke into the building,"  _ Towers growls as he takes a seat at the desk heavily, looking incredibly tired. He doesn't break eye contact with Sonic and the hedgehog tries not to either, in case the superintendent decides that's a sign of guilt. "And the cold case evidence storage.  _ And  _ my office and Eggman's office. That's not investigating, Junior Detective. That's breaking and entering. Larceny of property of the state.  _ Criminal offences  _ that could send you  _ both  _ to prison. Do you understand the position I'm in now, Sonic? I have a dead man with  _ no evidence  _ of misconduct and a pair of Chaotics guilty of criminal activity. What the hell was so damned important it couldn't wait until morning?"

Cerulean quills bristle with indignation. "That's it? Your most successful detective in the department's entire history might die on the operating table and you're worried how the  _ public  _ will see it?" He realises he's flashing his fangs and quickly presses his lips together, turning away as his fists ball at his sides. "Sorry, it's… Been a stressful night." Emerald eyes remain on the door, willing it open and for someone to tell them Shadow was okay, but it doesn't happen. 

It hasn't happened for hours.

"You want proof?" He asks quietly, not looking back at an officer he's begun to lose respect for. "How about the gun Eggman gave Shadow when he was promoted to Detective? Schlemmer ID'd it as the same gun from the cold case Eggman wanted us to drop." When he glances over, his eyes are hard and scowling. Towers seems unperturbed. "Not to mention evidence being withheld, constantly ordering Detective Shadow to drop it, and an attempt on Shadow and Schlemmer's lives by Nack so soon afterwards? Pull him in for questioning; I'd put money on his involvement in the cold case too."

Towers snorts. "Speculation isn't-'

"It's not evidence, but it's _ my job _ . Shadow thought so, too. We tried to grab Nack but he lost us in Jackal Squad territory." A half-truth, but enough of a truth Shadow can build on it when he's recovered. "It's enough to warrant investigation, right?" 

His expression softens as the old man begins to rub his temples. The press were going to have a field day if Ivo really was behind the Robotnik murders.  _ Wait, where did I-  _ Emerald irises widen realising the detective managed to give them one last clue before passing out. "Shadow called him Ivo," he states in a quiet tone, waiting for Towers to meet his gaze before quoting the injured hedgehog.  _ "'Ivo shot me, so I shot back.'  _ Is Eggman's real name Ivo? Is that common knowledge? He only ever called the Commissioner  _ Eggman _ around me before then. Everyone did."

Dichromats hold his gaze steadily, searching for something Sonic isn't sure he has until Towers sighs and leans back in his chair. "I can see why Shadow likes you," he states quietly, catching the azure off guard. Felt ears perk at the kind words he's not heard from his supervisor's own lips before. "I thought you were too soft. Seems I was wrong." A short silence follows, one Sonic isn't sure how to fill until the elder speaks again, back to his gruff and authoritative tone. "I'll schedule a press conference for Friday at five. That gives you thirty-six hours, Detective. Find your proof."

Sonic physically blanches with uncertainty. "S-Sir?"

"Until Shadow is well enough to take back his badge, you are the acting lead Detective for the Chaotics Quarter." Towers delivers the temporary promotion blandly, pausing to light a gasper and take a shallow toke. The same satisfied expression the azure's mentor wore after a drag on his face as he speaks through smoke. "If he's as good as he thinks he is, he'll have trained you well enough to gather the evidence you need. Make a solid case as well, I'll consider you for a real Detective position in a year or so, when you have enough experience under your belt."

"Y-Yessir," the newly appointed detective states, externally stiff and confident as internal turmoil is betrayed by his stammered response. If the Superintendent notices, he doesn't comment. Another long drag of his gasper and he stands with a huff. The sudden loss of conversation a chasm Sonic feels necessary to fill with thought. "I'll track down Nack," he lies, already well aware of the weasel's location. He only hopes after recent events, Infinite hasn't already killed him. "To get a statement regarding his involvement in both cases. Do we have Ivo's file? I'll need to go through it for evidence of misconduct, if there  _ is  _ any…"

He's trying to tread carefully, aware of Towers' unintended bias towards Human innocence. The old man takes another long hit of nicotine before extinguishing the burned-out cig in an ashtray on the doctor's desk. "I can look, but I don't recall seeing it," the human states with a frown, obviously troubled by the lack of an important employee file. Then he huffs and buttons up his coat. "Once the crime scene has been documented, you can search it. Knowing Eggman, if he hid something incriminating, he'd have kept it close to hand. If it still exists, it will be in his office."

Pelt abuzz with renewed hope, Sonic is ready to leave before it dawns on him to do so would leave his mentor alone. If he did die tonight, the azure would never forgive himself for letting him pass without a friend at his side. "I need to wake someone real quick," he states, a sentiment Towers hums in agreement with. He doesn't want the hedgehog left alone either. "Then I'm on it. I promise you I'll find the truth of both cases before Friday, Sir."

"Thirty-six hours," Towers replies gruffly as he turns up his collar. "Shadow is counting on you; don't let him down, Detective."

\--

"He ain't in th'mood, Pup. Get lost." 

Azure quills bristle with indignation when Gray won't let him inside the Den. Knowing flashing a borrowed badge won't do anything, Sonic instead shoves a foot between the door and its frame so it can't be closed in his face. The scarred jackal snarls a warning at the kid and leans out through the gap. "I'll speak simple, so yer little pea brain can get it: The boss ain't takin' no visitors tonight, boy. Now move your fuckin' foot before I slam this 'ere door so 'ard, you lose a toe or two."

It's intimidating. Sonic can feel his skin crawling with adrenaline just seeing those sharp fangs. The elder's breath stinks of smoke and booze and Sonic forces himself to imagine it's not the angry right-hand jackal but his mentor, a man who responds to reason. "You ain't listening to me," he reiterates in firm tones, willing his fear and anxiety into a knot and throwing it into a foot. It makes him want to run, perhaps a bad idea. "I need the weasel. Infinite said we got him for questioning when he was done. Hand him to me and I'll get outta your fur. I don't even want to see the boss."

White lips curl back threateningly. "Move. Yer. Foot."

With a sigh the azure complies, certain Gray won't change his mind. He carries too little authority, even if Shadow has been removed as his shield. Sonic's quills flatten and he almost turns away, until the words of his other mentors come back to haunt his cowardice.  _ "Shadow is counting on you."  _ Gray starts to close the door while Sonic frowns at his freed foot, Towers' assertion is followed quickly by Vanilla's. _ "He has faith in you. Time to prove it wasn't misplaced."  _ He needs Nack to do so and leaving now is as good as a death sentence for the weasel. He  _ has  _ to get inside and see Infinite, to convince him to honour his promise.

Sonic doesn't expect his body to move, but the energy in his feet takes over before his brain can catch up, throwing the azure's shoulder and whole weight against the door. Not expecting it either, Gray hasn't time to reinforce his strength on the wood; it rebounds into his nose, drawing a grunt of discomfort from the old jackal as he's knocked back a step. It's hardly an opening but Sonic takes it with enthusiasm, sprinting past Gray for the boss' office. "You little  _ shit," _ the jackal curses as he recovers, quickly in hot pursuit with blood still streaming from a nostril. "Get yer ass back 'ere. I'll beat some respect int'yer, insolent  _ Pup." _

Not surprisingly, the junior detective doesn't stop to receive the elder's lesson, flying through the hall to the games room and the extension housing Infinite's office. His plan stops beyond getting inside though; it's so early, Sonic assumes the Jackal Squad boss is asleep. The hastily created scheme to barge in, lock the doors and demand to see Infinite is quickly cast aside as he throws the doors open to reveal Infinite is already at his desk. The jackal scowls deeply at the intrusion, mismatched irises scathing as he slowly rises to his feet with hackles raised. 

It's enough to freeze Sonic in place in fear until Gray clamps a hand on his shoulder. Jolted back to reality, the azure resists being dragged out by digging his heels into the moldy carpet. "Wait, I need to talk to you!" He's met with silence, a hard stare from his audience and a snarl to submit from the greyed jackal. Lost for another hook, he adds urgently: "It's about Shadow!"

White lips curl into a threatening growl as Infinite stalks around the desk. Immediately, Gray releases his shoulder, taking an unconscious step back as his boss advances. Sonic feels all his bravery melt away beneath that hard gaze and backs up, only for the aged jackal behind to push him toward his snarling fate with an irritated growl. "If you're lying to get my attention, Nack won't be the only one leaving my Den in the wheelbarrow come sunset." Infinite warns of an impending fate barely an inch from the hedgehog and the azure swallows hard. The jackal loses his tattered patience and fists the hedgehog's collar. "Out with it then Pup, or have I already uncovered your idiotic plan? Such a childish, single-dimensional ruse. Shadow would be  _ ashamed _ -"

Fear quickly becomes anger and Sonic retaliates with a flash of his own fangs, which as a Mobian Rights supporter he hates to do. "He'd be pretty pissed you're threatening me," he argues back, body shaking with adrenaline and irritation. "Or did you forget he's my mentor? Anything you do to me will fall right back on him, for putting me in danger. I'd watch your step."

The jackal falters and Sonic jumps on the opportunity to keep it going. "You know we need Nack's testimony. Eggman's murder case hinges on it, or he becomes the next martyr for the anti-Chaotic movement and  _ everything  _ that Shadow has worked for will be forgotten. Do you plan on ruining his career, now that he's hanging on the edge of death? Are you done  _ using him  _ for your agenda? Should I arrest  _ you  _ for conspiracy too? Because from where I'm standing, being uncooperative is a damned good way to make me suspicious about why you picked him up after the fire-"

"I have nothing to do with that bastard weasel," the gangster hisses through grit teeth, fist so tight in the azure's shirt it begins to restrict his airway. It doesn't last long though; Infinite's hands shake with emotion carefully kept from his features until he relents, instead shoving the azure into a wall. The air knocked from his lungs, Sonic can only listen as the jackal continues on. "Nack killed the family on Eggman's orders, he admitted it in my interrogation. Did you really think with Eggman dead and the Detective shot up, I'd let you walk out with the last conspirator alive? Shadow's injury deserves  _ retribution _ , not  _ paperwork." _

Sonic scowls and straightens against the wall, quills flexing. "No, that's what  _ you  _ want." He dares take a step forward, meeting emotive dichromats with hard emeralds, feigning confidence in the face of fear. "Shadow wants his case solved.  _ Shadow  _ wants the perpetrator to be held  _ legally responsible.  _ You deal with this stuff with violence but Shadow would want that bastard behind bars and forced to answer for his crimes in Eggman's place. I'm trying to do what  _ Shadow  _ would want, to honour his career and protect his work towards equality. What're  _ you  _ doing, Infinite?"

_ "Get out of my office." _

Taken aback, Sonic hesitates until Gray grabs his bicep and hauls him into the common area. This time the azure doesn't offer any resistance, though he doesn't make to leave the Den either. He regains his footing and turns on the jackals with a frown. "I've got less than thirty-six hours to pin it on Eggman, without doubt and with evidence, before Towers announces the suspect in a press conference." He looks past Gray, internally begging Infinite to realise what that would mean for Shadow or their strangely mutual partnership. "If he or even his work means  _ anything  _ to you, let me take Nack in. Give me a perp, before being Chaotic is all history remembers of any of us, especially Shadow."

Infinite stares back with his jaw tight and fur bristled, but Sonic stands his ground, staring right back without flinching. He feels like he's going to throw up, or his brain will catch fire, but holds that narrowed gaze regardless for what seems like years. When he sighs and snaps his fingers, Sonic expects to be tossed out to the curb until Gray stalks past him with a glare colder than ice. "I don't know what it is about hedgehogs," the jackal mutters, low and measured in the thick air between them. "But you all seem suicidally stubborn." He turns his back and waves the azure off. "Go wait outside. Gray will bring you the weasel. Just don't fuck it up, or you'll be next on my shitlist. Understood, Detective?"

It's almost unreal, adrenaline draining to leave a heavy fatigue in its place. "Thank you," the hedgehog states, to which the jackal snorts as he sits heavily in his chair and opens a desk drawer. "I won't let you down. I'll get news about Shadow to you when I hear anything, too. I promise. I've a colleague sitting with him while I work but I'll be back there tonight. Anything at all, I'll be down. He'd want me to keep you up to date."

"What an expert you are, on a man you've worked with for less than a week." The comment is dry, humourless as Infinite pours himself a scotch. He replaces the bottle and takes a sip, a hum of appreciation for the burn before looking back to Sonic with a guarded expression tainted with disappointed anger "I've given all I valued, so beat it. I'm not in the mood to entertain."

The azure thanks him again and scarpers, off to collect his prize while Infinite wallows in self-pity, drinking faster than he usually would. He doesn't care it's barely sunrise, nor does he entertain Gray's questions when he returns to ask what they do now. "There's nothing to do," the dichromatic jackal states without looking up from his tumbler, watching the amber liquid swirl where he'd just added more. It torments him in its easy fluidity, making vortexes where currents collide but always recover to form the seemingly endless, cyclic return of agitation.

He doesn't let it sit long enough to reflect on eventual stillness, drinking and disturbing the peace again. "Nothing but wait…"


	24. Deceptive Simplicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonic continues his digging, finding far more than he bargained for, both about the case and the state of Human-Mobian relations at his own place of work.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: DECEPTIVE SIMPLICITY**

Nack is in a far worse state of repair when he's brought out from the Den; his nose is broken and bleeding, left eye swollen shut and jaw purple with bruises. His clothes have been shredded by ferocious slashes deep enough to draw blood and stain what remains of the cloth, deep scratches marring every inch of the weasel's shaking, bloodied, urine scented form. Sonic finds it hard not to gag as he pulls the criminal's hands behind his back and secures them with cuffs, dreading the scent compounding in the tight space of Shadow's borrowed car.

The small, weakened Chaotic is compliant, almost willing to get arrested over staying in the Den. It's not hard to convince him to keep his mouth shut about Shadow's ties to the Squad either, when the repercussion would be being handed back to Infinite's far more viscous form of vigilante justice, for what he's inflicted on the injured Detective. By the time they get to the precinct, Nack has sworn to keep his mouth shut about it in exchange for the assurance he'll go to prison. 

The only place Infinite can't get him.

Sonic sets up the tape recorder, slides a coffee into the weasel's hands cuffed to the interrogation table and sits opposite with a glass of water. A silent motion to speak is all the prompting Nack needs to spill his guts. His confession is detailed and consistent even when asked a similar question or the entire opposite to probe for holes, they damn the deceased commissioner and make sense of more obscure threads of evidence in both cases. 

"I don't know nothin' about the man outsida him bein' a cop," he states in response to the name 'Ivo'. No one seems to have heard it. "All I know is I get pulled in onna bogus drug charge. I figure Shitfinite set it up, bein' sour from me split from th'Squad. So I'm kickin' up a storm about me rights when who walks in but the Supe 'imself, tells Plod Towers to get lost. Tha's when I learn th'real bent copper shit, right?"

The criminal pauses to sip his coffee, savouring the warmth even as it makes him flinch in pain, a hand coming to his split lip as he continues. "He wants this guy dealt with. Some Professor up to th'armpits with Pet Rights. I asks how I'm s'pposed to trust a bent cop an' he offers me a steal; he'll give me th'gun an' chuck it for me, pay me real handsome too. All I gotta do? Break inter th'house the next mornin', shoot 'im and his grandie dead, burn all 'is papers about his Pet and make it look like th'Chaotic up an' scarpered for Freedom. Take 'em with me, dump 'em in th'river like a spent hoe an' return th'gun, I make  _ bank _ . Easy."

Sonic tries to his his disgust at the callous delivery of facts, but it seeps into a grimace the weasel clicks his tongue at. "You ain't never lived on th'street, kid. You don't get ter have morals when yer stomach's been empty fer days." Nack takes another sip of his coffee then looks Sonic dead in the eye, enjoying his distaste. "I shot th'girl first. Got in through th'patio doors in 'er room. She was sleepin' in a wheelchair. Honest, I did 'er a favour. Not like she were gon' be someone special."

A sneer touches his muzzle, one that cracks his healing lip and makes it bleed. "The old guy was a right sod until learnin' th'girl were dead already. Then he got on 'is knees real nice to pray. It were an easy job, 'til I found th'Chaotic 'ad done scarpered off. I burned th'shit I was s'pposed to and legged it meself, told old Egghead it were done completely, right? He did no check, I got paid and th'dumbass offered t'help me beat down the Squad. Never did though, barely even both'red with me 'less he wanted summit done. Lying bastard."

"What about the recent assassination attempt?" Sonic pushes for detail on the most recent case before Nack decides to clam up, as he was sure to upon realising he was building the case against himself. "Why'd you try to shoot Shadow in the morgue yesterday?"

"Cause I was paid to," the weasel states incredulously, believing the Junior Detective to be dense for such a dumb question. "Ol' Egg gotta hold of me boys, set up a meetin', then asked us t'kill his best detective. We was confused an real hesitant, but he said it were t'do with the Robotnik case. Shadow wouldn't drop it an' were getting too close ter th'truth, see? Eggman wanted 'im off it permanent like. Said I'd do it personal since I'mma sharp shot. Was led to believe he'd be unaware of 'is surroundings with all them cigs and bottles of booze in his stomach. Crock a shit."

_ He doesn't know Shadow's the Chaotic he failed to kill, then. One less thing to worry about.  _ "Was it the same deal as last time?" Honestly, while it wasn't possible for the same gun to have been issued as Shadow holds the first, Sonic genuinely wants to know the details of the arrangement. After all, he'd have been in the morgue too, if it weren't for last minute decisions. "Get loaned a weapon, kill everyone inside and set the building alight? Or did he switch it up to throw his own cops off the scent?"

The weasel scoffs into his mug. "Fer a smart man, he were none too bright with tha' stuff. Wanted me in, everyone dead, th'gun thrown in th'river. Then, I'd get me dough. Piss easy if Shadow were sloshed." Nack downs the rest of his coffee and stares into the empty mug longingly, expressions softening. His cuffs clink on the metal table as he slowly swirls the dregs. "I 'eard gossip th'old Commissioner died. World'll be better without th'selfish bastard." Strangely calm, lapid eyes catch emeralds as the mug clinks in the table. "Tha's all I got for yer, Flatfoot. Now, be good an' get tha' fine Human girl t'pat me down, eh? One last bitta skirt to tease before I'm up t'me neck in meat an' two veg."

Peach lips curl at the crass slang for male genitalia. "She's gone home already," he lies smoothly. Even if disgust is evident on his face, the assertion sounds sincere. Sonic pauses the tape and wastes no time extracting it from the recorder. Nack leaves sour tastes in his mouth the azure can't wait to wash it out with soda. "Guess you're outta luck for the last time," he states and stands, tucking the tape into his blazer. "Hope it was worth it, man."

Nack responds with a disconcertingly humerus chuckle. "Yer do what yer gotta, boy, you'll learn tha' someday." The Chaotic digs awkwardly in his pocket for cigarettes that aren't there, all of his stash likey shared around amongst the other officers. "Family, a dame, tha' asshole boss o'yours; it don't matter. There's always sumin’ a man will pay outta th'nose for and when you's broke? Well, life ain't shy 'bout takin' payment from yer soul instead."

"Some of us have morals," the azure responds softly, holding the weasel's gaze without falter. "Shads might be jaded, but no way he'd do what you did and I'd rather die in a gutter than kill for a payday." Turning on his heel, Sonic swipes up his notebook and knocks to be let out of the holding cell. “You've earned your place in life. Excuses won't get you far where you're headed either, Nack. Pray to Chaos you don't end up on Prison Island."

He slips out as soon as the door is open. Not giving the criminal a second glance, he thanks the officer and takes the steps to the ground floor two at a time, leaving the dark basement behind. Once in the visitor's foyer, he slows to an amble to flip through his notes on the interrogation; observations of mannerisms, tics and general body language to add to the transcript he's about to painstakingly write out for the report.  _ Nothing odd, though. He's probably telling the truth.  _

Sonic walks past the reception without looking up. With Topaz at the Detective's bedside today, the replacement is a boy fresh out of school, freckles speckled on his nose and dark brown hair messy like the kid he is beneath an oversized cadet uniform. The lad doesn't offer a greeting, just as he didn't that morning, far too nervous around a creature he's only ever seen in the papers before that morning. The azure pays him no mind, frowning as his own stays on the weasel.  _ Either that, or he's a flawless liar, an unlikely scenario with how flighty he appears… _

"I'm already bringing forward the deadline, Robert."

The azure freezes in the entrance to the main office space with his notebook open, emerald irises tracking to Superintendent Towers in the middle of the room. The entire room has done the same thing, silence befalling the room usually alive with mutters of concentration and the odd explosion of humour. No paper shuffles nor coffee spoon stirs as the dichromatic human stares down an angry, elderly human Detective, veteran of the navy and soon to be retired officer Robert Kilner. 

He's bald above the ears but sports a large and well groomed mass of facial hair to compensate; lightly curled whiskers from wide nostrils and carefully brushed, voluminous waves of silvery beard much like a cresting wave. Thin rimmed glasses sit on a nose cherry-red with emotion, crinkling a newspaper in his fist. Someone must have leaked the basics to the press, likely a nurse at the hospital or nearby resident, which doesn't bring Sonic any sense of closure. His case already being public is a problem.

"This… creature killed your superior," Robert spits, jamming the paper into Towers' chest. "I wouldn't stand for it. Fuck his record and fuck his standing, he killed one of ours and needs to be held accountable." He pushes the paper into the Superintendent's chest until Towers takes it, then finally drops his arm to his side. "Eggman wouldn't pander to the Pets if they topped you, Abe. I suggest you do his memory some justice and book that bastard hedgehog already. Condemn him on his deathbed, if need be."

Towers straightens out the paper and frowns at the headline, a grim lilt to his lips as he speaks. "DCI Shadow has as much right to a fair and honest investigation as you or I, Robert." Sharp eyes meet tired greens, then look past the old man to the hedgehog loitering in the door, freezing Sonic to the spot. "He's been a fine employee and an asset to the force. I'll move the investigative deadline, but no more. His Junior is already on a deadline."

There's a snide pleasure in his tone as he asks in front of Robert: "Speaking of, how was Nack? Cooperative, I hope?"

When Robert turns, his face is etched with distaste. It's the first time Sonic has been exposed to direct speciesism and it's quite frightening. Swallowing hard, Sonic shifts his focus to Towers in an attempt to settle his nerves. "Yes, Sir. I got it all on tape and was heading to Shads' office to write it out for my report. If your guys are done in Commissioner Eggman's office, I'd like a look-"

"Sure we're done, but there's nothing to find, boy. Best leave it alone and focus on what matters, hm? So hand it over." Robert holds out a hand expectantly, but when Sonic closes his notepad and tightens his hold on it, the human scowls. "You heard me, Chaotic." He clicks his fingers impatiently, huffing with irritation. "Give me your notes and the tape. You can go sit with your killer mentor while the real cops finish up the case. The Commissioner will have  _ justice,  _ hedgehog. That requires actual work from real policemen, not  _ pets _ masquerading as officers."

The urge to snarl has never been so strong, but the junior officer suppresses the curl of his lips, instead setting his jaw as he tucks the notepad carefully away. "Oh, I heard you." He quietly enjoys anger morphing into disbelief on the human's face, as well as the subtle smirk forming on Towers lips behind Robert. "But you ain't my boss, Sir. My boss is in the hospital because  _ your  _ boss might've shot him. He might  _ die  _ because he got too close to a web of lies your  _ Human  _ boss wove together. So no, I won't give you any of it. You can attend the press conference tomorrow."

Robert looks about ready to explode when Towers speaks up. "I hope a shorter deadline won't be an issue, acting Detective. I'm under pressure from the senator to wrap this case up as quickly and cleanly as possible. Two hours less was a compromise."

"No trouble at all, Sir. I got what I need from Nack already." His tone quickly returned to formal, Sonic scratches behind an ear with a frown, sight averted from both humans. He wills his quills to stay flat under the scrutiny of the entire department and clears his throat. "I'd like to check out Eggman's office, though. I probably won't find anything new, but I can't shake the feeling I should... I think Shads would." Refocusing on Towers, he offers a faux-cheery smile with matching optimism. "I'll have it done by three. Transcript and initial report before lunch, coroner's report on Eggman and a quick scope of his office after, then conclusive report tomorrow. Are there snaps in development?" 

Towers nods and motions towards his mentor's tiny office. "Go ahead and work. I'll have them brought to you on completion."

"Sweet. I mean… thank you, Sir." The azure replies softly, casting the elder human one last look before he heads off. He can feel Robert's eyes boring into the back of his head the entire walk to the closet turned office and Sonic is glad to find it unlocked. The youngster steps inside and closes the door, flopping back against the worn wood with a deep, steadying breath and jellied knees. 

"Chaos Almighty, how'd you deal with that for a decade?" Sonic asks the empty room in a whisper, felt ears folding in when his mentor doesn't respond.  _ Right. In the hospital…  _ Lamenting the lack of a drink, the azure pulls out the tape and notes and uneasily slips into his boss' empty chair. Imagining the residual warmth of Shadow's body in the fabric, Sonic sets to work on transcribing the tape, making sure to add his own observations from the notebook.

_ I'll make sure the truth comes out, but I still need your guidance, Shads. I'm pretty sure Infinite needs you, too… _

_ Don't die on us yet, asshole. _

_ \-- _

There's nothing to find in the Commissioner's office because it's already been cleared out: the floorboards are wet from having blood scrubbed off; the walls previously covered in clippings of Eggman's achievements lay bare, squares of unstained plaster amongst an excess of tobacco yellowed wall like a rampant pox on the precinct walls. Sonic finds his filing cabinets empty and his bookshelves devoid of knowledge. Even the deceased man's desk has been cleared down to the last paperclip.

The emptiness itself is haunting, an echo of the discomfort Sonic felt sitting in his mentor's chair. The grand presence that used to reside here has been stripped out, leaving a chasm of space no Human or Chaotic can surely fill to its potential again. For all his flaws, Eggman achieved great things. Now it's his job to discredit the man's memory and Sonic shivers, ice down his spine like a ghost, feet begging to leave the room and its memories behind as he forces them inside instead.

It's disheartening, another nail in the coffin for human morality, another man who cares more about Human reputation than the life of a Chaotic. He's beginning to understand why Shadow has such a thick skin with everyone.  _ It would be easier not to care if they valued my work. Will I become the same over time? Jaded and reliant on vices, like my mentor? Is this the cost of justice? _

Regardless of the heavy pit in his stomach, Sonic searches every nook and cranny of the room, pulling out the sofas, bookcases and filing cabinets in search of wayward paperwork, or anything the Commissioner jammed into a tight space. He finds a stash of rare baseball cards behind a bookshelf and something that used to be edible on the windowsill now so moldy, Sonic's sure he sees it  _ writhe  _ in the light. Finally there's an old, bent screwdriver under the desk’s leg, camouflaged into the grey rug beneath and likely to stabilise a wobbly corner. 

The azure pulls it out to inspect it, noting its rusted and useless. It's a wonder the thing hasn't snapped entirely. With a sigh, he places the tool aside to have  _ something _ , however meaningless, to show for his time and exhaustedly drops the desk back to the rug. What happens next is unexpected enough to make Sonic do a double take at the desk he searched and found every drawer empty, the hedgehog moving almost cautiously as he lifts and drops the desk again just to make sure he isn't imagining things.

**_Thud_ **

With a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins Sonic leaps back to his feet and yanks the draws open forcefully. All of them are the same weight bar the uppermost, which appears to be empty. Discarding the others, Sonic crouches down beneath the drawer and runs his fingers along the outside, claws scraping on the wood in search of a dent, a mark, a  _ clue  _ as to what to do. It's as he's about to give up, dejectedly running his claws up the sides, that one finally snags a hole right near the bottom of the inside panel; one which could've been mistaken for a lost screw and would usually be hidden by Eggman's meaty thigh.

Sonic pushes the desk chair aside and scoots closer, inspecting the hole to find it very much post-production. It's not sanded, nor matches the symmetry of other screw holes on other parts of the desk. An anomaly without a screw.  _ A screw it never had.  _ The azure angles a claw inside the hole, but it's far too short to find anything of value. With a huff of frustration the junior falls back to his haunches, only to recall the bent, rusted screwdriver carelessly discarded as useless evidence. Emerald iries fall on it, then Sonic lunges for the tool and scoops it up, barely thinking to be delicate lest the thing snap as it's inserted and twisted into the hole.

Twisted upwards, the head knocks against the underside of the "base" of the drawer interior. A few more tweaks and the false bottom pops up with a  _ clunk.  _ It almost feels unreal to Sonic as he slowly rises to his feet and sees the contents. The azure lets out a shaky breath and falls back into the chair, legs suddenly weak as adrenaline fades to fatigue, unsure what he's just found but certain it must be important. The name  _ Ivo Robotnik  _ stands out clear as day on the uppermost document, a birth certificate. 

The name Shadow had uttered, paired with the surname of the cold case, the case Eggman had wanted them to drop.  _ They were related. He had his own blood, Shadow's family, murdered... _

Not only is there ID for Eggman in the drawer, there's another few gems Sonic is quick to extract and organise; applications to foreign universities rejected due to political unrest, an attempt at a visa to migrate to a Chaotic-Free country, denied for similar reasons. By then, he had a degree in psychology. Most likely, the other territories saw Ivo as a potential spy. Papers he'd written on law enforcement, the development of a Modus Operandi for a serial criminal, even speculations on reducing crime rates in the city all carefully stapled and stacked until finally, Sonic reaches a stack of faded envelopes and at the bottom, a small notebook.

Ignoring the book, Sonic retrieves the envelopes. All addressed and handwritten in flawless cursive, all presumably responses to other letters Eggman had sent and all from Professor Gerald. A quick peruse of the subject matter and it's clear they weren't on the best of terms. Offers of money but coupled with a demand to study medicine, an aggressive assertion of how indebted Ivo was already to his grandfather, how refusing to help the family in such a way was as good as abandoning them. 

_ "She will die. Do you understand, boy? Without intervention, she will die before even me. Do you not feel a duty to the family who raised you, clothed you, educated you? Turn your intelligence to better things, I beg of you. Crime is for the brash, not a genius."  _

_ -Gerald _

_ "My life is mine to do with as I wish. My condolences." _

_ -Ivo _

__

That simple line of text was return-to-sender without reply. It's the last letter in the stack, the last time either of the stubborn men tried to contact one another. Sonic's hands fall to his lap as tired eyes track now to the last item in the drawer, the notebook bound in unassuming brown leather. The emotional letters set onto the evidence pile with care, the azure retrieves the book in both hands and fearing the worst for its contents, snaps it open to a random page with a flinch.

What he finds is more beautiful cursive, now slanted to the right and more feminine in style, any small space left by the words and sometimes, large spaces obviously filled beforehand by tiny, impeccably detailed sketches of the mundane one sees from a kitchen window. Birds in flight or perched on branches, clouds crawling overhead and leaves swaying in a distant wind. Drops of dew weigh flowers almost to the ground, perfectly shaded to show the reflection of sunrise in its watery exterior. 

It's breathtaking, but more so is the picture on the next page, one that takes Sonic's breath away in a far more painful manner. A sketch of a tiny hedgehog with stripes on his quills, hiding in the shadow of another, bright eyes and vibrant crimson accents all that differentiates him from the dark. His eyes are fearful, his feet and hands bare but also clothesless. A pet, scared by his new home. If he hadn't wanted to steal this piece of evidence for his boss already, the caption beneath the picture makes it impossible to leave, if Shadow's past is to remain a secret.

_ My Little Shadow  _

_ -Maria _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come join us on Discord! We're small, but we have lore and Pokemon!
> 
> https://discord.gg/reCxjtm


	25. Selective Censorship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonic wraps up his assignment and learns some final hard truths about his job.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: SELECTIVE CENSORSHIP**

It takes longer than anticipated to go through all the letters, find additional evidence "Ivo Robotnik" was indeed the "Eggman" he knew as Commissioner of the SSPD and compile his notes - with references  _ back  _ to the letters - in detail. By the time Sonic is done, it's dark. He massages a cramp from his hand as he stares down at his work, tired eyes unfocused, emotionally numbed by the discovery he's just crafted into words. Any pride in his accomplishment is fleeting though, given the subject matter. Every new letter the azure reread and figuratively ripped apart was an unwanted reminder that Shadow had been working for the perp he'd been searching for his entire time with the SSPD.

There's a few small holes in the larger picture, but the evidence is clear; Eggman ordered a hit on his relatives, Professor Gerald Robotnik and Maria Robotnik. The Junior Detective can't discern  _ why,  _ so that particular rift must have happened after the letters stopped being exchanged. Nor can he convincingly explain  _ how  _ Shadow knew Eggman's real name. Normally, lack of motive is death for a case, especially a high profile one, but with Ivo dead and Nack asserting his involvement they may scrape by with an 'unlawful wounding' or 'intent to cause harm' conviction. 

Coupled with crime scene photos, the position of Eggman's body and evidence of a struggle inconsistent with his autopsy but hopefully comparable to Shadow's injuries, it should be enough to remove any honours for time served in the armed forces, and his Commissioner title. It's not  _ complete _ justice, but if it clears his mentor of suspicion and drops potential charges to at worst self defence, Sonic will consider his first official case a success. Confident he's done all he can with reports. A case summary and the final compilation left, he closes the folder for the night and rubs at tired emeralds with aching peach fingers.

_ You're not done yet, not by a longshot. _

Resisting the urge to grab a coffee on his way out, Sonic pulls on his coat and slips the folder into an inside pocket. He wants to check his notes on the autopsy, double check that the transcript of Nack's confession is accurate and triple check he hasn't drawn any conclusions that could incriminate his boss. Sonic feels slimy for it, but he knows Shadow is innocent. If he were the cause of the man losing his job or worse, his freedoms, the azure would quit on the spot. All his mentor's work would be for nothing and Sonic would never forgive himself.

He locks up his loaned office and heads out without a word, one of the last still present that night. Upstairs, an office blazes with light. The unfortunate inheritor of Commissioner with his own boss deceased, Towers is likely to be surviving on coffee fumes and gaspers for the next few days, pulling double shifts to get the backlog of incident reports, supervisor reviews and promotional paperwork for his own job finalised, signed and sent to the city's Governor of Crime Management. 

Bothering him with half-assed conclusions stuck together by conjecture won't do Sonic or his injured mentor any favours. Tired and starving having skipped lunch to work on the case, he warms up Nicole and heads to  _ Abode Café _ for sustenance and a sugary soda, Sonic's caffeine crutch of choice. The road's eerily quiet since the sun fell, electric sidewalk lights in the prosperous Human districts becoming gas-powered lanterns within Chaotic streets, a dimness the azure prefers as he grew up surrounded by them. Only since being hired at the SSPD has he noticed how easy such lights made it for criminals to melt into the shadows, a handicap for a cop and certainly why crime remained prevalent.

Sonic tries not to get too distracted as he pulls up near the café, taking extra care to be sure Nicole is locked properly. If he woke up -  _ When,  _ the Junior Detective chastises himself internally - to his car stolen, Shadow would kill him. Of that much, he's sure. Once content she's as secure as possible, Sonic tilts his hat low over his brow and hunches his shoulders against the bitter cold, not wasting a step into the warm, familiar establishment in the hope of a hot meal and a sympathetic ear.

Upon entering, the hedgehog removes his hat and places it on the bar, eyes raising in search of his favourite waitress. What he finds instead is Carl Rose. One of many Human war veterans in the city, Mr. Rose is the least amicable Sonic's had the pleasure of interacting with. He's flabby about the jowls and carrying an entire distillery of beer fat at his gut, head patchy with grey hair quickly falling out in middle age. Despite being at work he wears only dress pants and undershirt vest dotted by holes, allowing Sonic to see the copious, curly mass of salt and pepper chest hair that matches meaty, grizzly-bear arms.

The man sneers in disdain for his property's favourite patron as the azure offers a friendly, if nervous, grimace. " _ Hey,  _ Mister Rose. You're still open, right? I could do with a 'dog and fries."

"Sixty cents with a coke. You drink that shit, righ'?" Sonic tries not to think about how that's almost double his hourly wage as he nods and mutters a polite  _ Yessir.  _ Carl grunts and returns to shining the glass in his large, hairy hands with a dirty cloth. It does nothing to the watermarked surface, sometimes smearing the splots of grease even more, but the man seems more intent on wasting time than improving the state of his glassware. 

"Yer in late, boy." Carl finally observes and reaches behind the old bar for an air-chill coke. He pops the cap with teeth stained by years of nicotine and coffee before sliding the bottle to the young patron. His politeness is strained and Sonic feels on edge. "Tha' asshole pet cop got yer workin' overtime already, eh?"

Sonic catches the glass bottle but doesn't reply, staring at it with detached sadness. His lips may be thinly pressed and his brows flat, but sorrow swims beneath through the hedgehog's guts, an ache he can't seem to fix in his chest. Carl clicks his tongue at his rudeness. "Them cops know how t'get value for money, then. I'd bet th'cafe you's on 'alf the Humans wage. Am I righ', boy?" 

The azure doesn't respond, though his brows furrow at his glass. Carl takes it as his answer. "As yer should. Yer only 'alf th'height of one, after all."

Turning to go cook, the man laughs heartily at his own joke on the way to the kitchen. Sonic's hand curls into a fist beneath the bar. The pay gap hadn't been an issue before; he'd simply been grateful for the opportunity his own parents had been denied by birth, never caring for the averages across species so long as he contributed. Phrased in that mocking tone though, Carl's words make that sentiment feel childish _._ _We're worth less in every respect, aren't we? As people, individuals and workers._

He quietly puts the coins on the bar, fingers lingering on them a little longer than usual. The weight of his expenditure for just a bite to eat suddenly feels excessive. Swallowing down the guilt of wasting money he could give Vanilla for groceries, he pulls the folder from his coat and begins to reread his notes, intent on taking up space there until Carl throws him out for closing. Sonic allows himself a single, wistful glance at the ceiling above where Amy must be, then hunches over his work with renewed fervour.

_ You've done a lot of good, but we've a long way to go, huh? _

\--

Sonic gets to the hospital at almost midnight, eyes heavy but a sense of duty keeping exhausted legs shuffling onward. Towers must have made some waves about their treatment; a flash of his boss' badge is all he needs to be ushered out of the waiting room and lead to a private suite complete with guest futon, an attached kitchenette shared with the other private rooms and a personal washroom. It's stark white and reeks of chemicals, the wall-length windows opposite the door tightly shut against the outside chill making it smell worse as the azure sets eyes on his mentor for the first time since he went into surgery.

His dark pelt and vibrant stripes sit in contrast to spotless sheets pulled so tightly across his waist that he looks skeletal with the edges tucked under the mattress. His arms lay on top of the sheets on either side, a previously unnoticed streak of red from elbow to pale pinkie claw looking so similar to blood Sonic can't breathe. The skin is pale beneath his tan muzzle fur, crimson eyes gently closed while thin lips remain drawn into a familiar, slight frown. Shadow breathes deep and level in recovery, IV line in his wrist only making him look smaller in the pristine hospital room.

"Hey, Blue." The soft voice unexpected, Sonic blinks and finally focuses past his mentor, where an equally drawn-looking Rouge sits at his bedside. She's not wearing any makeup and appears to have rushed to dress, wearing a faux-fur hooded coat over a thin slip and cardigan. Straight out of bed, if Sonic were to take a guess. He frowns at her, prompting the bat to explain. "Gray got me. Espio wanted to come too, but we can't afford to shut the bar right now. I sent your police girl home to take a day, so don't tell your supervisor, okay hon?"

Sonic doesn't answer, his body still frozen just inside the door. He doesn't want to approach Rouge or the bed. Doing so would acknowledge everything had definitely happened. His bravery and sense of duty rapidly drains when confronted with reality. He suddenly wants to go home, eat dinner with his family, then sleep. To wake up tomorrow and have everything be okay. Tears well unbidden in young eyes, his chest feels tight, barely able to draw breath when he looks back to his mentor. He's in a bubble of sorrow and pain, dissociating from the world as everything he'd previously modulated by working comes crashing back so hard, his knees almost give.

He doesn't notice Rouge get up, nor does he hear her soft words of reassurance. They echo meaninglessly in his brain, little more than sounds adding to the nausea building in his gut until a firm hand clasps at his shoulder. He refocuses suddenly, finding those kind teal irises barely six inches from his own. Rouge is so small without her heels, barely up to his nose, forcing him to glance down as she continues. "It's been a hard day, hasn't it? I can stay with him tonight. Go home, get some sleep. He won't begrudge you needing to rest."

It's what Sonic wants, but he can't. His feet won't move, his eyes straying back to his prone mentor. "No," he whispers, offering Rouge a tired smile. He wants to tell his mentor about the case so far, about what he found out, what he suspects, to voice his deductions aloud to see if they sound convincing. More so, he wants to be here when Shadow wakes up, to share their victory over Eggman and to give him the diary he stole. "I appreciate it, but I want to be here. You go. Get some rest and come back tomorrow, okay? I trust you to keep an eye on him while I work."

The pale bat smiles, a sadness in her eyes the azure doesn't get the depth of. "He's lucky to have you, Blue. Make sure you get a nap in, at least. Not even Shadow works well without sleep."

When she hugs him, Sonic hugs back instinctively, chin on her head and arms around her shoulders, splaying a palm between her wings. He's fairly certain she sobs into his shirt, that her grip is a touch too tight and her body a little too stiff, but when she pulls back the only evidence of any delicate emotional states is a slight reddening of her sclera. Gloved fingers stroke his cheek in affection then she scoops up her things, pauses to kiss the ailed detective on the forehead and slips silently into the hall beyond.

Left alone with his thoughts, Sonic huffs out an uncomfortable breath and takes off his coat, retrieving the file to begin writing his summary. Despite the available desk, he takes the vacated seat at Shadow's bedside, crosses a foreleg over his knee and opens the file in his lap, stealing one last glance at his peaceful mentor before focusing on his task, blinking hard to keep weary eyes open. 

Rouge was right, it has been a long day, but it's not over yet. There's simply too much on Sonic's mind to sleep now. He sits in silence, occasionally making edits or voicing uncertainties aloud. He won't admit he hoped Shadow would reply, but it helps to be there, knowing the ebon is alive if unresponsive. When he finally does get too weary to continue, Sonic places his folder aside and forgoes the guest sofa for his own arms on the mattress, falling into an exhaustive slumber in moments beside his mentor.

\--

_ I'm not ready for this. _

The camera flashes are blinding as Towers addresses the press from the steps into the station, chin held high and voice level in the face of their attention. Shouts for details, for suspects, the truth of their long-standing Chaotic's involvement in the death of a decorated war veteran and high ranking officer pepper the air. Many are obviously out for blood, others honestly seek the truth, but a flash of red fur in the crowd is proof that at least  _ one  _ paper has more riding on this conference than tomorrow's headline. Sonic is anxious to get this right.

"...the most recent update suggests Detective Chief Inspector Shadow will awaken within the next twenty-four hours. Once he is deemed of sound mind, I will conduct questioning regarding the Commissioner's death personally." Sonic tunes back in with ears perked in interest, unaware Towers intended to do a formal interview with the ebon. "As many of you are already aware, DCI Shadow's new partner has been conducting the investigation. I will allow Junior Detective Sonic to be present for his mentor's inquest but not permitted to ask questions, to prevent conflicts of interest. We're now open for questions."

Cameras flash and voice raise once again, only to quiet down as a young reporter is chosen to speak. "A question for Sonic." His eyes lock with wide emeralds, chocolate browns friendly even as conflicting words leave his mouth. "When DCI Shadow is found guilty of murder, will you take his job? Or do you think you'll get fired, perhaps implicated as an accessory?" Nervous fingers ball behind the hedgehog's back. He glances to Towers for guidance but pointedly gets none. It's then, Sonic realises this may as well be his own inquest. "You found them in the office, correct?" The reporter continues in a jaunty tone. "You were fully capable of tampering with or destroying evidence. Isn't your management of the case already a conflict of interest?"

Even up the few steps to the police station, Sonic feels small. He's still shorter than a lot of the humans here, outnumbered at least ten to one by humans obviously convinced his mentor was a crooked Chaotic training another to be the same. Emotions in turmoil and overwhelmed by the direct focus of so many, Sonic's voice freezes in his throat. It's an embarrassing occurrence, his muzzle flushing as Towers takes over again. The Commissioner's disappointment is palpable. The azure looks down at his shoes, eyes averted from the press, exhaustion freely flooding his body.

_ What am I supposed to say? _

"The initial crime scene investigation was carried out by another, trusted associate, a veteran of the force and trusted DCI, Robert Stewart." The words ring in pert ears. Azure quills bristle at the tone and carefully chosen words, spoken slow and clear. "I don't condone evidence tampering in my department. Should there be any evidence of doctored papers, fallacies or materialised evidence, those responsible will be dealt with within the law as any other, regardless of station or species."

More flashes, more raised hands and shouts for recognition. An unkept old human is the next to be chosen and he too turns on the young hedgehog like a predator sensing spilled blood. "You have incriminating evidence suggesting Commissioner Eggman was at fault, then? Preliminary interviews with Sargent Stewart suggest he found nothing, despite turning the office over twice in search of such. Are you telling me a man who served for our country, who's worked as an investigator for thirty years, failed to find something a rookie carrying his mentor's badge did?"

As the reporters discuss their competition's question with vigor, Towers clears his throat and projects his voice over the rabble. "If there's no more questions intended to incriminate minority staff, this conference is over," he rumbles, a growl in his voice Sonic hadn't expected from a human. "Thank you for your time. Good afternoon."

There's uproar as the conference is drawn to a premature end, Towers already turned back to another officer, giving orders to disperse the crowd of reporters. Hardened, mismatched irises express a defensive spark similar to the one Infinite had when refusing to hand over Nack. He wants justice for his employee, regardless of the connotations, just a more legal form than the jackal. 

_ It's what Shadow would want too, isn't it? _

A flash of red around the ankles of the humans and Sonic finally gets a good look at the Chaotic amongst them; a small, runtish wolf with bright red fur, thick black glasses and the telltale lack of clothing of a recently Freed Chaotic. Amber irises meet jades, a shared struggle of trying to carve out a life in another's world communicated in tired eyes and an unexpected, optimistic wag of a ruby tail. The kid is excited to see him. It reminds Sonic of all his mentor fought for and how he'd idolised him in a similar way as a kid, how the wolf may not even be Free if it weren't for him, and it sends a shock of resilience into the azure's bloodstream.

Steadily, Sonic steps into Towers' prior spot and straightens with false confidence, the act of which is enough to bring the voices down to a murmur. "When I-" Realising he's too quiet, he clears his throat and raises his voice, not used to having to fill so much space when speaking. "When I started here a few months ago, I was the errand boy. I made coffee, filed paperwork and ran stuff between detectives. I was happy, too. My Ma and Pa never had the chance to get jobs. It was the best thing. When I was told I'd get to work with DCI Shadow, my  _ idol  _ as a kid? I was stoked."

Not initially intended, his smile becomes a frown. "It was… a bit of a shock, if I'm honest. It's only been a week and I've learned a lot about life. Like, except for the odd few who talk to you like another human, most coworkers think you're only there as a PR stunt. That being a good cop isn't enough to keep you sane. That vices and… struggles, are painfully obvious in both Chaotics  _ and _ Humans trying to make the city better. That there's still  _ so much  _ we need to change, to make the city fair and safe for everyone, regardless of species. This conference is an example of that."

Peach fingers curl at his sides in anger, but Sonic forces them to relax and holds them again behind his back. "You suggested Shadow is misguided, that former Commissioner Eggman was misunderstood. You then targeted  _ me  _ because I was obviously unprepared for this fanfare." Emerald eyes narrow at the older human who previously spoke. "I have evidence. I found a false drawer in Eggman's desk filled with papers for an 'Ivo Robotnik', along with handwritten letters with comparable penmanship to Eggman's. Commissioner Towers has already ended the press rally, so I won't go into detail, but I can assure you I don't make baseless accusations, Sir."

His gaze returns to the others gathered, not flinching from the unerring stare of a dozen reporters or their camera flashes, tone stern as he closes the statement. "The SSPDCQ is dedicated to uncovering the truth, that is all. Thank you."

Sonic turns and heads back inside, not daring to look back for fear his legs would give out, striding past Towers and his other officers into the relative darkness of the station. Out of sight and exhausted, he flops into the vacant receptionist chair and leans into the leather, head back and eyes closed as belated waves of nausea crash through his stomach. He'd had nothing prepared, hadn't even expected to be included in the press conference, a naive thought he realises now was a huge mistake. 

_ Always have something prepared, even a single statement… Chaos, that was stressful... _

"Go home." The gruff statement makes Sonic startle in his chair, eyes snapping open to Towers looming over the desk. He looks as stern as ever, lips pressed into a grim line as he lights a gasper before shaking the match to extinguish it. "You did a good job, Junior Detective. Few usually speak during their first conference. I didn't, nor did Shadow." He pauses to take a deep toke, letting the heat burn his stressors and expel them through his nose with the smoke. "Your job is done. Clock off early and get some sleep. You've earned it."

Sonic nods as the elder heads inside the main workspace only to pause in the door and look back at the Junior. "When DCI Shadow wakes, you're to take minutes of my inquiry for your final report. It's a formality, the final touch on a completed case, but I want it on my desk the next day to sign off. Understood?"

"Yessir!" The azure responds, an oddly fuzzy feeling building in his gut as Towers walks away. It's a strange sensation, unusual until the tingle reaches his head and it finally registers as joy. Slowly at first, a grin spreads across his muzzle before it splits his face in two and with an excited shout, Sonic grabs his coat and sprints for the car with unadulterated excitement. He has to get to the hospital and tell Rouge, not just because he's excited his first case has been a success, but that his mentor is also freed of suspicion.

_ I did my part, now it's your turn, Shads.  _

_ Just… Wake up. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a small discord. Come hang out and shit.
> 
> https://discord.gg/reCxjtm


	26. Overdue Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its not just Sonic that's reunited with a friend in this chapter... Or is it?

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: OVERDUE REUNIONS**

_ When Shadow wakes up, everything feels wrong; his limbs aren't heavy enough, his mind is too clear, the incessant cravings for a drink or another hit of nicotine absent for the first time in over a decade. He's not yet ready to open his eyes and engage with the world, but ebon fingers flex experimentally in the warm air. They work just fine, even if there's less friction in his joints than usual. His chest fills and deflates in unconscious rhythm, his heart still beats steadily in his chest. Both organs feeling far too young and virile after his abuse of vices, so much he's afraid and his breaths momentarily hitch. _

_ "Thank God!" The exclamation isn't too concerning itself but the soft tones, light from shortness of breath, sends a shiver down the ebon's spine. He knows that voice. It haunts his dreams and waking moments of clarity, the siren song to emotions far more intense than Shadow can handle. Even now, praising a deity, his blood runs cold as crimson irises snap open to a cheek looming over him, the girl turned away. "Grandfather! Grandfather, he wakes! He gasps for life, by the heavens!" _

_ She doesn't need to look back for her little shadow to be sure it's his dead sister. Suddenly acutely aware of the thin appendages that look ready to snap under his meagre weight cradling him in her lap, of the ethereal chill sapping the heat from his flesh and deep blue irises turning back to him, Shadow can't handle it all. With a cry of fear, he throws himself sideways, scrambling to regain his feet as he backs away from hallucinations of what can't possibly exist.  _

_ Maria and Gerald Robotnik. His family. _

_ Their surroundings are ambiguous and equally confusing for the hedgehog. The walls, the sky, even the floor seem to consist of the same greyish-white fog, stabilised beneath him and yet in an aqueous state elsewhere. The walls and ceiling flow indiscernible from its neighbours, thick as molasses but not losing shape. It's impossible and frightening and Shadow feels panic rising up his gullet as vomit. "Where the fuck am I?" He asks, more to himself than the figures in front of him. The Maria doppelganger rises to her feet as a Gerald doppel approaches. Shadow bares his teeth to disguise his unease as anger. "I said where the  _ **_fuck_ ** _ -" _

_ "I raised you better than that foul language, boy," the elder man berates loudly, teeth clenched beneath his greying moustache. It's exactly as Shadow remembers it, right down to the last faded whisker, the perfect mimicry of Gerald's appearance and tone in anger enough to stay the hedgehog's tongue as Maria takes an uncharacteristically steady step forwards. "How  _ **_dare_ ** _ you talk to your Father as such,  _ **_especially_ ** _ with a young lady present. Had I my belt, your backside would already be as raw as your damned vocabulary-" _

_ "Grandfather  _ **_please_ ** _ ," the teenager implores her grandfather, a sharpness in her eye as she glares over her shoulder. Gerald lets out a huff of irritation and a muttered comment about respect, but casts his gaze away as Maria advances another step. "Little shadow, look at you! How much you have grown without us!" A third step toward him. Shadow takes an anxious step back as he tries to locate flaws in her appearance, anything to prove this is a fallacy. Her features soften to something closer to pity and his ears fold, not that it shields him from her voice at all. "I promise this is no trick, Shadow. We have missed you, begged His Grace to be the ones to guide you onwards." _

_ Shadow swallows a whimper and bares his teeth, quills bristled and hackles raised. Maria looks like she might cry. "I have not seen you so terrified since we were children," she comments, sadness engraved in her features. "When Grandfather purchased our first toaster. Do you remember that, Shadow?" _

_ Just the mention of it makes the ebon's stomach flip; the shiny new silver toy in the kitchen, buffed to perfection before Gerald had even bought it home. They'd both been told not to play with it as it could get hot, so instantly they had been fascinated and zoomed in on the object every time they were in the kitchen. It'd been a Sunday morning when Shadow happened across it with a strange glow coming out the top and a lever on the side pushed down. It smelt weird, like an edible coal fire, but try as he might Shadow hasn't been able to identify the smell completely. _

_ Wanting to know what it was doing, the hoglet had been scaling the cabinets to peer inside and just got his chin onto the countertop when it  _ **_screamed_ ** _ and ejected its cargo. He'd yelped and dropped down, curling instinctively into a spikey ball when his body hit the ground. His head hurt, his arms ached, his body shook. The memory of a wave of heat on his face and a minor sprained wrist would never fade, leaving Shadow with an intense aversion to toasters and by extension, toast itself. It had been tricky at work not to react to the office toaster but the ebon had managed it, not telling anyone of his strange phobia this Maria copy seemed to know, meaning… _

_ "Maria?" His voice is weaker than anticipated, a weight finally returning to his limbs so suddenly, he falls to his knees. Tears are pooling in the corners of his eyes. Embarrassed, he wipes them off as the girl advances more quickly now, stooping to pull the Chaotic into a tight hug as he regains his composure. It's enough to break him all over again. This time, he doesn't hold it back; he clings to the girl's fragile frame so hard, his claws dig into the thin, white fabric of her gown. "Chaos, I c-can't believe-" _

_ Burying his muzzle in her shoulder, Shadow finally lets decades of grief take hold. Words become sobs muffled by her body as he falls against her and cries, trying to memorize her scent anew, to feel her bony chin on his head and slender fingers in his quills, combing her nails soothingly against his scalp. It still makes no sense but Shadow doesn't care. "I missed you so potently, little shadow," she whispers into his fur, hushing his renewed sobs to a hiccuped gasp for breath before continuing. "But now, we can be together again. By God's Grace, you can stay here, with us." _

_ Reality hits like a ton of bricks. "I… died?" _

_ "You have not succumbed yet, my boy." The Professor's voice is closer now. Remembering his composure, Shadow sits back on his haunches and wipes at the tears with the back of his hand, a futile task given how much he's sobbed. Gerald doesn't seem too irritated by his weakened emotional state though, staring into ruby eyes behind glasses so thick, his own are black. "You wished for death many times, only to continue for our case. It is solved now, Shadow. Do you not deserve to rest, after such hard work?" _

Yes.  _ The word sits on his tongue, ready to express his need to lie down and sleep, to be free of obligations after a lifetime of them in just a few years. His mouth opens, his tongue flattens to let it be heard and yet… nothing comes out. Shadow closes his maw and casts his gaze away, claws digging into his knees. It doesn't hurt like it should. He's wanted to finally be painless for so long and yet it feels… wrong now, as faces and feelings swarm behind half-lidded eyes. _

_ Sonic's uneering enthusiasm, his concern as Shadow lies dying, his cheerful demeanour and honesty. Schlemmer, his weird idiot. Rouge and Espio, both his oldest friends and partners in crime, so to speak.  _ "The only ones daft enough to tolerate you,"  _ the bat would often joke. He still owes them a debt money could never repay, and certainly can't try in death. _

_ Had his flesh been real, he would've bled when Infinite came to mind, his grasp so tight Maria's gentle hands ease them off his skin in concern. Shadow doesn't notice, too wrapped up in the slew of unexpected emotions that follow Fin's face; warmth in his chest, affection in his heart, a need to see him again after his kiss burning in his mind.  _

**Unfinished business.**

_ The words form of their own volition, their tone one he doesn't recognise. Crimson irises snap open as Maria stands and backs off with a troubled expression on her face. She echoes those words in softer tones, a tear carving a fresh track down a cheek. Seeing his sister so pained for him feels horrible. Shadow tries to wipe it away, but soon discovers he can't move his muscles, his whole body as heavy as lead. Even ebon eyelids feel heavy and the hedgehog struggles to stay focused as Gerald steps forward, placing a reassuring hand on his granddaughter's shoulder. "You have more to do, my boy. We can wait. Return to your family." _

_ Shadow tries to say  _ **_they_ ** _ are his family. He tries to shout and cry and scream that he wants to stay, that they are all that matter, that everything he's done and everyone he's met was a means to this very end. It would have been true mere years after their deaths but now, none of it is anymore. He has attachments back on Mobius worth as much as they ever have; friends, family, and of course, Fin... Weights he won't cast aside so insurmountable, the Chaotic passes out as Maria speaks once more: _

_ "Sayonara... We will wait for when you are truly ready to join us. Until then, live for us both, my little shadow." _

\--

It feels like days since Sonic last ate, stomach growling audibly as the scent of food being brought to patients at five sharp seeps into the detective's private room. Hunger pangs are close to doubling the young hedgehog over as the smell of freshly made egg sandwiches and soup draws ever closer down the halls. In reality, it's been twelve hours, but for a hedgehog who ate three meals and two snacks every day to fuel his high metabolism it may well have been yesterday morning. For their small size, the average Chaotic ate more than the average human and while he can sense he should try to seem professional it's hard not to salivate when there's a soft knock at the door.

A young human with long, blonde locks pinned up beneath her nurse's cap peers in with a tray in hand. Her eyes skim past Sonic to her patient, studying his still form briefly before dark hazel irises return to the azure visitor with a kind smile. It's the friendliest face Sonic has seen at this hospital and he's grateful for the simple kindness. "Would you like dinner, sir…?" She asks in a quiet voice not unlike Topaz, one he's beginning to realise is practiced in the same way he represses the surge to snarl at any Humans. "His lady is always keen each evening. Says she'd want it eaten if she made it and I can't say I don't agree, mister…?"

Realising he's been staring at the tray instead of its bearer, the azure snaps his attention to the girl's face and smiles sheepishly, scratching behind an ear with embarrassment. "Just Sonic, Miss. Junior Detective, if you wanna get formal, but I'm off the clock."

The girl steps into the room and hands Sonic the tray, who is immediately drawn to the scent of warm egg sandwiches, piping hot soup and the sharp scent or cheddar on crackers. There's a bowl of tinned fruit in sugary syrup, a small container of jello and another one of chocolate pudding. He hadn't expected to be given such variety, even if it was still less than he'd like. He picks up the sandwich and takes a bite of warm eggs and melted butter with a delighted moan. "Thith ith good," the hedgehog praises through his mouthful, thankfully swallowing before he smiles and adds: "Thanks! It's been a long day. I'm starved!"

She seems pleased, perching on the foot of the bed to watch his enthusiastic devouring of the sandwich for a few minutes in an easy silence before turning her attention to Shadow. "He's your boss, I assume?" Taken off guard by a personal question, Sonic is unable to answer before she continues, not looking away from the ebon with creased brows as she lightly strokes the back of his hand. "He almost died in the operating theatre. They took a bullet out of his gut and he nearly bled out. That's why he's on fluids. He almost died and… and they wasted a minute debating if they should give him the fluids at all. Without the SSPD paying his bills, I think… they may have chosen not to."

Emerald irises scale to his mentor, truly cataloguing his injuries and pallor in detail; his flesh is pale, making ebon fur look grey and tanned muzzle appear tawny. It also showcases the bruises that encircle his neck like a collar, the healing minor wounds on his muzzle and the sunken state of his dehydrated features. It's not a surprise to Sonic they debated saving him, not after the last few days of eye-opening interactions with Humanity, but it stings to think he needed Human support to be deemed worthy of basic care. The azure pauses eating, too nauseated by a flood of sorrow and potent injustice to stomach the food, frowning at Shadow's helpless form thoughtfully.

"I'm… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," the girl states as she stands, hurriedly smoothing her skirts as she excuses herself from the uncomfortable silence. "I thought… I thought I should say something since he almost died but the timing is insensitive. Please, forgive me. I'll go-"

Sonic blinks, then belatedly reacts, placing the tray down with a clatter on the bedside table as he stands and grabs her wrist. The girl freezes up and he instantly lets go, feeling guilty for making her uneasy. "No, it's… Before you go, I wanted to thank you for the food and… for telling me what happened. Sure, it's bad, but he's survived, right?" He waits for her to look at him before he smiles, careful to keep his clawed hands well away from her skin this time. "I'm grateful. Now, we can talk to our boss about how they handled it when he's better. So no apologising, okay?"

"For Chaos' sake, just fuck her already..."

Both youngsters freeze, then emeralds and hazels snap back to the bed, where the owner of the gruff, pained voice is reaching for the pudding cup with a grimace. While Sonic stands lost in a flood of surprise and relief, the nurse moves swiftly to move the tray out of his reach and hands it off to the azure. "I will fetch a doctor. Make sure he does not try to get up. He should not eat until a doctor has cleared him to do so, though I'm afraid his foul mouth may persist until the medications have been stopped…"

Sonic doesn't have time to tell her he  _ always  _ has a foul mouth before she closes the door behind her, leaving the youngster in charge of a jaded, ebon hedgehog. Emerald irises remain on the whitewashed wood until the distinct crackle of a dessert cup in distress draws his attention to the bed, where Shadow struggles with the sealed lid of the chocolate pudding container. He's still half-out of bed on his stitches, an elbow braced on the mattress and a pained scowl on his face as he wrestles with the plastic a moment longer. Sonic sighs in exasperation. "Come  _ on,  _ Shads. She literally just said no food! Just wait half an hour and-"

"You wait half an hour on an empty stomach with food thrust in your damned face," he growls, giving up on ripping off the lid to instead pierce it with his teeth. There's a  _ pop  _ as the seal finally surrenders. Shadow flinches at the sudden release of pressure beneath his fang, then curls a claw onto the hole and rips the plastic further without looking at his mentee, voice scratchy and quiet compared to usual. "Explain how I ended up in the Human ICU instead of complaining I got to the pudding first, Junior."

The azure watches his boss forego finding a spoon to lap up the pudding, pausing to suck the remnants from the lid off his claw, with mild disgust. Then he sighs and carefully places the tray on a vacant chair and stands. "I don't care you got the pudding. Eat it all. I won't tell the nurses. What I  _ do  _ care about is you leaning over like that. Let me help you up." Knowing he'll likely refuse assistance and rip the stitching open out of pride, Sonic doesn't give the ebon time to object before cupping a hand under an armpit and gently easing Shadow back onto the pillows. "There we go… gotta let your body fix itself, okay? Or you’ll just end up back here with more stitches and a flea in your ear from the nurse."

Shadow hisses in pain as he's repositioned in bed, body rigid a long moment before he finally starts to relax again. Sonic had intended to take the pudding off him, but seeing his mentor in so much discomfort he doesn't have the heart, instead handing him the previously ignored spoon. "I made a judgement call," he responds quietly, retaking his seat with the tray on his lap. Not that he's hungry anymore. "This place was a lot closer, but it's a Human place and getting you a bed was tricky, so at least use the cutlery and try to be civil. We don't wanna get kicked out."

His mentor clicks his tongue, obviously irritated by the thought of pandering to Humans. Thankfully though, he keeps those opinions to himself and proceeds to eat slowly with the spoon. "Assuming Towers is footing the bill, they won't dare." Shadow pauses for another spoonful of cool, smooth pudding, resuming as he scrapes the container sides. "I'll be civil," he concedes with an air of fatigue, only to snort humorlessly. "Until they inevitably remember I have fur and treat me like shit, then I'll-"

"I believe you were told no food."

Both hedgehogs look to the door, where an unfamiliar Human stands in front of the young nurse Sonic met previously. He's an elder, entirely bald on top with wisps of grey that wrap around his head from ear to ear. Despite his age, his posture is solid and presents himself as imposing, small spectacles balanced on the bridge of his nose magnifying small, blue eyes in their lenses. "I am your physician, Doctor Epstein. It's a pleasure," the Human states, eyes skimming to Sonic as he stands before they return to Shadow licking out the empty pot. "But I can't treat you if you can't follow orders. Abraham assured me of your compliance."

"He got hungry," the azure blurts out and places the tray on his seat, hastily offering the doctor a hand to shake. "Sonic, Junior Detective at the SSPDCQ and Shadow's partner. We don't wanna cause any hassle!" When the old man stares at his hand instead of shakes it, the azure's fingers slowly curl into a fist before he shoves his hand into a pocket, trying not to let irritation show on his features as the elder stalks past him to the bed and unwraps the gauze around the ebon hedgehog's waist. "So, how's his stitches looking, Doc? Can we get outta your hair yet?"

The ebon is doing a terrible job of being civil, a low growl in his throat as the doctor peels back the weeping wound beneath, a slight pinkish hue suggesting it's still yet to seal. Shadow snarls as deft fingers firmly palpitate the surrounding flesh, which the doctor ignores, focusing instead on removing the gauze and retrieving antiseptic solution from the bedside drawer. "They're healing as expected," he informs the azure without looking over, wetting a cotton ball with the fluid. "Given Chaotics heal at an accelerated rate, we will be able to discharge him on Monday, so long as his woman can commit to cleaning the wound."

Sonic jumps into the conversation before Shadow can. "Oh, no! Rouge isn't… they're friends. I can arrange something in the next few days, though." He throws Shadow a look, knowing he'll have an opinion on the doctor's callous comment on owning women. A silent warning to stay quiet the ebon seems to begrudgingly accept.. "he can stay with a friend or with me. It's no big deal."

As soon as the cotton ball touches his skin, Shadow grunts and throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut and hands balled into fists in the sheets. "Jesus  _ Christ, _ that fucking  _ stings." _

"That means it's working," Doctor Epstein states, still dabbing at the quivering flesh without remorse. Shadow grits his teeth and gasps with each fresh touch, nostrils flared. "Don't be a damned pup, Detective," the human scolds with a huff, setting the soiled cotton aside soon afterwards. Sonic can barely look at his boss' shivering body as new gauze is applied to his waist, tied so tight the azure wonders how he can breathe. "There. Now, get some rest, Detective. And  _ no more food _ , understood? Your stomach needs a specific diet to reduce the risk of nausea and vomiting, which may rip stitches. Ask for assistance to relieve yourself, as well. A nurse will walk through every hour; make use of her."

Epstein leaves a moment later, leaving the nurse behind with a muttered order to  _ mind the pets.  _ It's lucky he's quiet. If Shadow heard that comment, he may just have launched himself out of bed with claws poised and fangs bared. Instead, he's busy trying to get comfortable in his fresh, restrictive bindings. With a soft sigh, the young nurse moves to help him, fluffing up his pillows and tucking the sheets back around his frame. "You can have tea with a little sugar and milk, though. Would you like some?"

He responds with a silent nod, throat too rough to speak again. Shadow looks as tired and pale as before, exhausted by pain and the doctor's manhandling. Despite his prior attitude, the nurse smiles and smooths his sheets with care. "Clarise'll do,  _ Shads."  _ Shadow cringes at the name and she laughs softly, no hesitation in brushing a hand against his head and seemingly satisfied with his temperature. "As long as you stay in bed and accept help to use the toilet, I won't embarrass you with that nickname. But you need to behave, okay?"

Shadow mutters an agreement, looking away with a slight flush in paled cheeks. Clarise gives Sonic a cheeky wink and a smile as she straightens, retrieving the half-finished meal from him with curt formality. "I'll take this, just to be sure he won't sneak any more food. Would you like some tea as well, or perhaps another sandwich? We usually have a few extra the doctors eat between patients, but I'm sure they won't notice one going missing."

The azure shakes his head. "Tea sounds good, but I'll have food waiting at home when I head back. Let the docs refuel on 'em. I'll just hang out with Shads until he passes out again, then get out of your fur-  _ hair, _ I mean hair!" Sonic grimaces and holds his hands up defensively, ears folded against his skull. "You've very lovely hair. I didn't mean that at all! Force of habit. I just mean I appreciate everything you've done for us, you know? Don't feel like you gotta bend over backwards for us, but thanks a bunch. Really, I appreciate it a whole lot! You too, right Shads?"

The aforementioned ebon huffs softly, still not looking back. His claws dig self-consciously into the sheets, balling them in a fist as he stares at the wall. Clarise muffles a giggle into the back of a hand. "You're both so polite for Chaotics! It really is my pleasure to help you both. I'll be back soon with tea, okay? Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone." She pets Sonic lightly on the head, a mildly condescending, if affectionate, gesture the azure lets slide after all her help and empathy before sitting down with a huff of breath once she's left the room. 

It's quiet for five seconds before Shadow pipes up, gravely tone strained but humorless as his words set peach cheeks alight. "Just fuck her in a closet. She won't treat you like a pet again."


	27. Best Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadow and Gray both face confrontations they'd rather not deal with, but cannot avoid.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: BEST INTENTIONS**

Shadow inhales his breakfast the following morning, not caring how bland his oatmeal and toast is. Refused coffee and a smoke afterwards, he sulks his way through the morning with copious cups of tea that never quite quenches the need for caffeine. It does make him need to urinate frequently though, something Clarise assures him is beneficial; his body gets flushed out more effectively if he drinks a lot and she doesn't mind helping him to the bathroom every few hours.

The first and only friendly Human the ebon meets during his stay at that hospital, the young blonde is gentle with his wound as she changes his dressings that morning, though the antiseptic still stings like a bitch on contact. Rather than patronise him, she soothes his discomfort with gentle scratches behind an ear the hedgehog would have been offended by, if he were healthy. It makes him feel like a pet, but it's also the most affection he's received in decades from anyone, even Fin. 

Even though he'll deny it to his grave, it's comforting.

Once left alone with his thoughts, Shadow finds it hard to sleep. Maybe it's all the tea and sugar, or the intense pain flaring in his side with every shift, but he suspects it's about the dream. Dark brows furrow as he recalls how real it all felt; Maria's fingers on his flesh, the low warmth of her skin, her voice and tone exactly as he recalled. He fingers the book Sonic gave him beneath the sheets, still unopened despite it being in his possession for more than twelve hours now. __

_ It had to be a dream,  _ he tells himself again with a huff of breath, irritated at his weakness. Shadow searches for logic amongst the bizarre and finds a single, convincingly sane scenario. I _ almost died; my brain must have panicked and made it up. I've wanted to see them again for so long.  _ His frown deepens with his fingers still on her diary, all he has left of his family.  _ But what was that other voice? I didn't recognise it. Did I imagine that, too? Was it my mind reminding me of what to live for or something else? _

No answer comes. The silence is deafening. The ebon is about to roll over and attempt to sleep off the post-trauma weariness as the door opens half an hour before Clarise is due on her rounds. There's almost no time to comprehend the fretful-looking Rouge pushing past the threshold before she's on him, craning over the edge of the bed to engulf his shoulders in a tight hug. "Chaos Almighty, don't you  _ ever  _ do that again," she mutters into his fur, forehead pressed to the top of his head and core shaking with emotion. "You had us all worried sick, you asshole."

Trapped beneath her suffocating affection, head fur dampened by silent tears, Shadow is taken aback. He'd not considered she might get so worried, let alone actually openly express it, but he lacks the words to express his returned relief and thanks. Still pinned to the bed, he manages to bend an arm just enough to pat her elbow. He doesn't mean to make her more upset but the tightening grip on his head and under his chin suggest he has. "I need to breathe, Rouge." he rasps, then rubs at his throat gently when she apologises and lets go, studying her slightly smeared make-up and closed posture before noticing Towers in the door behind. "Superintendent, my apologies-"

"Can you stop acting like nothing happened?" The bat interrupts irritably, ignoring the man behind her to glare at her friend. For his part, Shadow snaps his mouth shut. He hasn't seen her this upset since Gray didn't visit the bar for a week after a territory scuffle with another gang. "You almost  _ died,  _ Shadow. You were hanging on by a thread in surgery. You lost so much blood, they thought you might never-" She catches herself before more tears flow and angrily wipes them away, apparently uncaring for the smears of eye shadow it leaves on her sleeve. "What I'm saying is, I'm glad you're okay. But don't pretend to be fine with it all. I can't imagine how scary it must have been…"

Shadow doesn't know how to respond, but ebon ears fold and his quills flatten at her concern. A moment of silence passes, the pair not breaking eye contact before Rouge sighs and sits beside his bed, taking his hand in hers. "The staff wouldn't let me back in," she says softly, teal irises sliding down to their joined hands. Crimson orbs crease into a frown as he too regards their palms pressed together and fingers loosely entwined. "I thought… that maybe you had died, and they didn't want me to see. Instead it was just Humans being Humans." She sounds bitter, squeezing his hand in reassurance as he frowns. "Someone figured out we're not an item, decided I didn't need to be here. But at least Commissioner Towers fixed it now. I'll be sure to visit as often as I can while you rest up."

"Commissioner?" He queries, glancing to Towers with his brow raised. His boss' promotion isn't surprising, but when the elder Human nods wordlessly, Shadow sets his jaw. "So are you here to take a statement, or arrest me?"

Towers isn't phased by the question. "That depends entirely on what you tell me," he states cordially, hands clasped behind his back. It makes his chest stick out and his suit seem too short. In any other situation, Shadow would have found it comical. "But first, I'll get some coffee." He looks to Rouge who scowls slightly at his indifferent tone, her fingers still entwined with ebon. "I expect you to leave before I return, Ma'am. We'll require a few hours, then you may stay as long as you desire."

Her grip on the ebon's hand intensifies sharply. Shadow bites back a grunt of discomfort as her voice becomes sickly sweet and smooth. "I'll go, but I'm coming back when I feel like it. Not because you gave permission, either. I thank you for helping me out earlier, but I'm not an accessory or piece of ass. You'll get more support in our districts if you stop treating us - especially women - exclusively as maids or harlots."

Towers doesn't react to her veiled hostility, instead turning his focus back to Shadow as he grasps the door handle. His warning is bland and emotionless, sucking the air out of the room with him. "Five minutes, Detective."

The click of the door is the only sound for almost one of those precious minutes before Rouge huffs and finally releases his sore hand, straightening her dress as she stands. Shadow flexes his fingers to bring blood back into them, frowning at his aching phalanges until a scratch behind his ear mutes fierce features into a softer, more relaxed expression accompanied by murrs of appreciation. "Obey the nurses," the bat orders. Undeterred by his humorless snort, she chides him semi-playfully. "You can be obstinate when you're better. Until then, be nice. I'll bring you a treat when I come by later, if you are."

Rouge doesn't loiter, not willing to risk the ire of a Human police officer. She stoops to peck his forehead then with a flick of white hair off a shoulder, she gives Shadow a level glance.  _ I mean it,  _ her stare says before she turns on her heels and leaves without another word, the light  _ clack  _ of thin heel echoing through the clinically white halls beyond. Left alone again, Shadow sinks into his pillows and stares at the ceiling, trying to ignore the ache in the right of his abdomen. The bandages around his waist and hips aren't conducive for deep breaths and suddenly feel suffocating. Crimson eyes flicker closed as he balls the sheets in his fists, still trying to fill his torso with air regardless.

_ I need to get out of this hospital. _

He stays like that until Towers returns with uncapped styrofoam cups that billow the scent of burnt coffee into the room. It's a familiar, reassuring smell Shadow reaches for. He cradles it in his hands and lets the steam condense in his face fur, deep breaths seeming easier with the scent now encasing his being. To his credit, the Human simply sits and sips his own steaming brew, a lack of emotion on his features as he eyes Shadow carefully. Five minutes pass before Shadow finally speaks. 

"What happened while I was out?" He asks honestly, unsure as to the fallout beyond what little Sonic and Rouge have filled him in on. He suspects the hedgehog agreed not to discuss the case with Shadow before he gave his statement. A wise move. "Has Eggman been charged with obstructing the course of justice or concealing evidence? Even just grievous bodily harm should be-"

"He's dead," the new Commissioner interjects. Unable to form a statement of sympathy or even a blunt response in his surprise, Shadow closes his mouth suddenly. The coffee steam suddenly feels too hot. Towers doesn't break eye contact. And as he lowers the cup to his lap, Shadow realises it's a 'friendly' interrogation. "Commissioner Eggman died on the scene from a single gunshot to the abdomen that nicked his intestines. Even with immediate medical treatment, he was likely to suffer complications or die. Was that intentional, Detective?"

Shadow snorts, claws piercing the outer styrofoam in irritation. "Of course not," he growls quietly, only now aware Towers has left the door ajar. An insurance policy, should the ebon respond to accusation with violence. Shadow can't tell if he's offended if the Human thinks he'd kill someone in cold blood or that he'd react in kind to a simple question. "He shot me on sight. Said he was expecting Nack confirming I was dead, but wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. It was  _ self defence _ , Abe."

Dichromatic irises bore into crimson, their experience searching for any sign of dishonesty. The ebon stares back undeterred, not a sliver of fallacy in his testimony. He's not about to tell the man the whole truth of why Eggman wanted him dead; his continued pursuit of the cold case he attempted to have sealed numerous times in the past is plenty of motive. He can see the cogs turning in Towers' mind mulling that evidence over, all the resource and funding denials, the most recent refusal of evidence access right before an uncharacteristically brash move by the weasel. 

_ As long as Sonic had the sense to keep his mouth shut, I'm fine. _

The Commissioner doesn't betray his deductions in his features. Towers sits back and utters a thoughtful hum, bringing his coffee to his lips. "Sonic told me something similar," the Human states into the steam, old eyes wrinkled about the edges in thought as thin lips twist slightly. It seems Abraham isn't fond of cheap Joe either. He sets it aside, leaning back in the uncomfortable visitor chair with a pained-looking shift of the back. "Your protogé has been busy while you recovered. He practically wrapped up your case and this one single-handed, though I will sign off the latter, for obvious reasons."

"My case." Shadow echoes those words, resisting urges to reach for the diary the azure stole from the crime scene to protect his true identity. In all the physical pain and emotional uncertainty, he'd almost forgotten  _ what  _ the case was that got him shot. The truths that mattered were finally in the open. Eggman had his own flesh and blood killed over politics that likely wouldn't have impacted the world in his lifetime. Shadow's mouth goes dry as he fishes for details. "What did he uncover? Was it political?"

Towers only shrugs, unaware of how personal it truly is. He can only assume the ebon is overdedicated to his case after years of investigation. He stands and retrieves his jacket from the back of the door, shrugging the heavy trench coat on before replacing his narrow-brim hat. "His work is your responsibility to review and awaits a signature on your desk. Additionally, you're signed off until those stitches are out, but there's a press conference scheduled mid-week at midday I'd like you to attend. The press are excited to hear your story, Superintendent."

The addition is so subtle, Shadow doesn't think about it until the Human has already left, leaving the Chaotic with two steaming cups of coffee and an unexpected lump in his throat.  _ Unfinished business  _ alluded to in his dreams hangs at the edge of his mind, knows what it is without the tingling memory dancing across his lips. Except to act on it he needs to be discharged, and Monday morning is two days away. He distracts himself by taking a sip of scalding coffee and retrieves the diary from beneath the sheets, finally feeling ready to delve inside.

Seeing her penmanship, curved and careful even when she was four, brings tears to the ebon's eyes so suddenly, he's grateful for the private suite. With a hand still clutching his coffee as a focal point and leaning back to be sure his tears won't smudge words if they make it through his coarse fur, Shadow begins to read about the life he lost from the eyes of his sister, the first Human to show compassion and treat him as an equal. It's hard to read about the strain illness put on her body. With the words regarding her future oftentimes so bleak, it's an anthology of a deep depression Shadow hasn't been privy to as a child himself.

But there are rays of happiness amongst these words. Sketches of the world outside and nature attracted to her private porch. Birds pecking for scraps or drinking from the water fountain, a bee in mid-flight or walking on the exterior window scrawled in the margin. Detailed drawings of pinned butterflies Gerald gifted her given new life on the page, ready to take flight should someone yell or try to touch them. They look more alive than Shadow ever remembers them being, depicted healthier in still than with beating wings, working lungs or pumping hearts.

Shadow turns another page and comes across a familiar face, an uncertain little hedgehog with bare feet and hands, ragged cord for a collar fraying around his neck. Shadow doesn't recall being so small or scared, but his unshaded stripes are too distinctive to be a prior Chaotic. Bare claws curl around a thick leg, most of the little Chaotic set out of view and ready to flee should the artist seem threatening.  _ My Little Shadow  _ written in perfect cursive beneath, the ebon traces those words with a shaking claw, uncaring that tears drip from his chin as an unwitting smirk curves unsteady tan lips.

_ Superintendent Shadow… It has a nice ring to it.  _

_ Don't you think, Maria? _

\--

Describing the second Roughneck safehouse to be torn apart in two days, Gray is intensely aware his boss isn't paying attention and it irks the old jackal. As a loyal member of the old Squad before Infinite slayed the Beast, he successfully helped take and keep territory for Squad business in joint efforts with Infinite for years. Gray's experience, paired with the younger, energetic and intimidating jackal helped them easily expand the base together and forge a haven for abandoned, abused and escaped Chaotics right beneath the nose of the city through decisive, swift action.

Since the detective got shot however, he's been unfocused and hesitant to act, passing off decisions to Gray rather than discuss them to mope in his office. He's been drinking more, smoking more and eaten very little; his muscled, bony frame peeking out beneath tightened skin making him look overinflated. It's not conducive to mental or physical health, especially for the head of a street gang. It'll only be a few days before the boss starts to lose muscle mass that's difficult to regain on their meagre diet.

_ Get ‘im back on track. _

"Boss," he finally states with an edge in his tone. It's enough to pull tired dichromats from a half-empty glass of whiskey, though Infinite pulls back his lips in warning. He's not in the mood for disobedience, including being questioned. Gray almost backs off until the younger jackal downs a quarter of the glass in a single, swift movement and his concern ignites anew. "You've been in 'ere all week with th'blinds drawn," he presses on, letting the worry infiltrate his tone. "It ain't healthy. Yer should go outside-"

Infinite snarls and the elder snaps his mouth shut, heart beating faster as his boss vacates his desk with an ear-splitting squeak of his chair on the floorboards. "I didn't ask for your opinion, Gray." He's dismissive and distracted, not headed for the old canid but instead to his coat looking for a smoke. His third since Gray was called in to deliver an update. "If you're done with your report, get the fuck out of my office. You've got work to do."

Unsure if he's about to risk gaining another scar, Gray loiters by the door. His superior checks every pocket of his coat and jacket for his cigarettes before glaring at the bin, remembering he took the last from the carton less than fifteen minutes prior and cast the crumpled packet into the waste. It's painful to see someone he admires begin to break, the slight twitch of an empty hand disquietingly reminiscent of the ebon he's stressed about. It's all Gray needs to continue with tentative confidence. 

"I told yer not t'fret. Rouge's visited a couple o'times and took 'im some 'ard candy. The asshole's swaddled in linen an' gettin' three meals a day." When that reassurance falls on deaf ears the old jackal bristles. He's never seen Infinite so distracted and it's all the fault of that damned detective. His jaw tight and words clipped, he adds in a calm, but firm tone. "We got more pressin' things t'worry about; th'Roughnecks are a couple raids off bein' run outta Upper Westside. If we don't take th'chance, someone else'll muscle in within a few days. We gotta do this now, Boss."

The younger canid huffs, tail dangerously close to collecting dust off the floorboards. "So deal with it. That's your job, isn't it?"

Infinite doesn't even turn to him as he speaks. Having dealt with the disinterested gangster for days now, Gray's diplomacy all but evaporates at the unconscious slight. "My job's bein' yer second. All I done this week is pussyfoot about th'streets an smack a few heads together. That ain't intimidatin' t'competition. That's like wavin' a white flag an' askin' small time crooks to hustle in yer place." He narrows his eyes at the back of his boss' head, adding in distaste. "Stop gettin' hung up on th'shitfaced fuckin' plod an  _ focus. _ It's makin' yer look  _ weak _ ."

Mismatched eyes turn sharply on amber, freezing Gray cold in his tracks and further insult in his throat. His eyes look furious at best and murderous at worst. Regardless, Gray is sure he's about to get beaten as Infinite slowly turns to face him, near-empty tumbler in hand. " _ What _ ," the younger jackal asks softly, claws scratching the exterior of his glass in anger. Gray swallows once, heavy with regret for his quick tongue. "Did you just call me?"

The right hand doesn't respond, holding his ground against the door as Infinite slowly turns on him. Clipped ears fold back and his greyed head dips slightly in a silent apology his boss ignores. Their eyes lock but the elder stays mute. Infinite snarls and hurls the glass at his second hand, Gray flinching away as the tumbler explodes into a shower of shards and shimmering glass fractals inches from his head. He's quietly grateful his superior intended to miss. "Is that what you see, Gray? Do not mistake tolerance for _weakness._ Or would you prefer I were more like the _Beast?!"_

Dichromats bore into ambers as Infinite advances, hands curled into fists by his sides by the time he stops a mere inch away. His breath is hot, scented heavily by whiskey as it ghosts across the elder's muzzle. They're practically the same height but in that moment, Gray feels exceptionally small. "Should I consider my boys expendable? Perhaps I should have kicked you out as soon as your back went. The Beast certainly wouldn't have tolerated _ your  _ weakness, would he?" 

"No, Sir." It's a reflex, brought on by the threatening stance and a throwback from his time as a fighter, the only way to avoid a harsh beating if he broke the rules. Infinite frowns in confusion and Gray takes a deep breath, then speaks softly. "I ain't tellin' yer how t'do nothin', Boss. You just ain't bin yerself of recent. If th'boys notice, or God ferbid a rival see it as we-  _ opportunity,  _ I can't be certain all of 'em won't still follow yer blindly."

The silence that follows is tense, air thick enough to slice with a knife until Infinite steps back, turns his back and exhales sharply through his nostrils. "Quash any who questions your authority. I won't allow another Nack situation. Take a small team to Upper Westside and defend the area, establish a safehouse then send back a runner with any updates. I also want an update from your dame on the detective and his underling. Stable doesn't mean he's out of the woods. Shock can take a man in ten minutes."

Relieved to be given something more than 'do your job', Gray relaxes his stance a little and breathes easier. "Yes, Boss. Clyde'll gladly clobber the stragglers until they skip town. I'll 'ave t'leave the girls an' Figit though. Yer know the boy'll lose his shit if one o'them gets 'urt and they won't take 'im near danger."

"Of course," Infinite states softly. "Now go do your job."

Gray sees himself out, taking care to keep any further opinions to himself. 'The girls' are Roulette and Destiny. Affectionately known as Rou and Desi respectively, they're the only females in the Squad and were an acquisition from an illegal breeding ring raid headed by Shadow. They were taken into police custody for a night before being released as 'Free' onto the street. Infinite took them in as a favour to the detective, who didn't want them to end up working on Cottontail Corner. They'd become the best cooks and homemakers, while Roulette is a dab hand at poker.

Their adopted 'child' is a whole other story. A physically and mentally delayed pet that was forced to take a cocktail of bad quality drugs before being abandoned, Figit is a liability and little else. He helps cook and clean, but has the mind of a five year old despite being about fifteen and is usually found sweeping the floors, scrubbing dishes or pulling pranks with Clyde. The Beast would have killed the kid, not allowed him to drain resources for so little input.

Making a mental note never to mention  _ weakness  _ again, Gray barks orders to the Squad, making it clear that they come straight from their Boss as he tries not to imagine what life would've been like if the Beast had won that pivotal fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a dicord! We're small but friendly.
> 
> https://discord.gg/reCxjtm


	28. Seeking Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new perspecive can change a lot.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: SEEKING TRUTHS**

He would have left on Sunday, were it not for the food. It's been a long time since Shadow sat down and enjoyed a meal but with so little else to keep him occupied in the hospital, it became an event the hedgehog looked forward to during his stay. The food certainly wasn't anything special; boiled vegetables with cured cuts of cheap meat, gravy somehow thinner than water and an incessant stream of weak tea, dry sandwiches and pudding cups. Frequently, when his door was left ajar to allow air flow or Clarise needs to haul out linens, Shadow would hear other patients complain about the quality and lament not returning home to their wives.

Shadow always rolled his eyes and took another bite of his meal, thankful for the nutrition. He'd forgotten how good it felt to be well fed by a hot dinner. It makes the years of tinned meat and coffee interspaced with the occasional greasy diner lunch seem like a waste of time and taste buds. Fresh vegetables danced new flavours across his tongue; he could detect them even in the thin soup broths, accentuated by the salt required for it to not spoil left on a stove top for a day or two, though he wondered if a lack of cigarette smoke or drink clouding his senses also assisted.

When Monday evening rolls around, the ebon is almost sad he'll have to make do with what he has again. Shadow used to be an average cook, easily capable of producing food matching up to or surpassing that of the nurses, but he hasn't bothered since he lost his family. They were the reason he tried; Maria needed the nutrition more than anyone with her illness and Gerald worked so hard for them both. Once they were gone, life lost its lustre. Food became a chore instead of an expression of love. Tins and the odd bit of cheese was all his life had felt worthy of.

Stepping into waning sunlight, the ebon pauses at the threshold and shades his eyes from the glare. It's almost dark, another day setting without his consent. His weekend in the hospital passed as slow as he expected, but it still felt like a waste of the time he's been gifted by fortune. An endless expanse of loneliness he thought was his future has lifted, crimson eyes opened to what could be, now his conscience is clear; people he cares about and who in turn care for him. 

_ Friends… I made friends... _

He's forged relationships without meaning to, oblivious to their concern and attachment while lost in his own despair. Three days is a long time to reflect on yourself and Shadow feels like a fool. The lonely life he led was entirely self-inflicted, wallowing in what he'd lost instead of what he had gained. The fact it took a bullet to the abdomen to realise it would probably have made Maria laugh, her recalled tone and joy echoing in his head even now. " _ Will you never see beyond your nose, little Shadow? There is more to living than learning to be Human. Just look outside!" _

And he does; he feels the chill spring air ruffle his quills and a dampness of future rain getting caught in his fur. The birds call and twitter to each other as they get ready to settle on their eggs for the night. The city smells of industry and infrastructure, of filthy progress disguised by shining metal chassis and electric wires high above his head. Shadow shivers and pulls his collar up against the weather even as he marvels at it, a rueful smile curving usually thinned lips. 

_ All this beauty…  _

"Uh, Shads…?" Despite knowing the azure was called to pick him up, the detective blinks and gazes down at Sonic with unusually calm features. The Junior Detective looks concerned as he gets out of the car and takes the steps two at a time. "You okay, bud? You look a little… spaced. Did they give you a shot or something before letting you out?"

_ Did they?  _ The older hedgehog honestly can't remember, which in itself suggests they did. A firm, yet gentle hand, clasps his bicep but Shadow shakes it off with ease. "I'm fine," he states with a hint of his usual directness returning. He takes a step down and immediately regrets doing so unaided, grasping onto the railing with a grunt of discomfort. "I said I'm  _ fine,"  _ the grouchy ebon restates when Sonic tries again to support him, then uses the railing to lower his body slowly to the second step with a quiet hiss. "Your hovering isn't helping, either. Go start the car."

He manages all seven steps by himself. It makes his entire right hand side ache, but the fatigue feels satisfying as Shadow eases into the passenger seat. Sonic watches with barely veiled worry as his mentor slams the door and finally relaxes into the leather, the relief of rest plain on his face. "Well, I ain't taking you home in that state," the azure states defiantly, revving Nicole to drown out the expected sounds of disapproval to his right. "Not with all those stairs to climb. We'll go fill any prescriptions you got, then I guess I'd better get the sofa made up for a few nights, huh?"

Sonic turns a smile on his friend and coworker, only to falter as emerald irises meet less enthused crimsons staring back. "You… don't want to?" He asks, audibly crestfallen. Then he huffs and turns back to the road, checking his mirror before he pulls out. "I mean, that's fine too! It's kinda crowded at mine and Unc can be such a grouch when the weather gets his joints. I can't keep you company, either; Towers has me managing the whole of the Chaotics Quarter while you're off! Crazy, right?! I can't wait 'til-"

"I need to go to the Den," the detective interrupts. Sonic glances at him, noticing he's staring out the window with half-lidded red eyes unfocused on their surroundings. The youngster frowns but doesn't have time to comment before Shadow refocuses sharply on his mentee, intense gaze as stilling as ever. "Your home was pleasant and accommodating, but I do not wish to be a burden on your family. I also need to discuss with Infinite some…recent developments in our arrangement. I can do so while I recover."

The azure twists his mouth. "Is that a good idea?" He asks with a tone of concern. Shadow snorts and returns to gazing out the window, but Sonic persists. "You're basically headline news right now. If a reporter sees me dropping you off near an abandoned house or realises it's the Squad hideout, we're in trouble." 

"Just take me there, Junior."

Peach hands flex on the wheel, palming the leather cover until stitches leave marks in his flesh. It stings, but it also imbues the azure with enough confidence to continue. "Look, I'm not trying to say you  _ shouldn't  _ see Infinite, but let's be honest; if you guys do what I think you're gonna do, you might tear your stitches or make the wound worse…" Sonic hesitates a moment, recalling the state of Shadow and his flat after their last tryst. "He's just, not exactly  _ gentle  _ with you. I don't want you getting hurt. Plus it's no big deal if you need the sofa, either. I'm on a temporary pay raise, for doing more stuff. We can afford a few extra meals."

Silence stretches between them for a few blocks, broken only by the rumbling of Nicole's engine. "You're an idiot," Shadow sighs as they turn into Lower Westside. The azure frowns at the road, unsure if it's an insult to his morals or a backhanded compliment until Shadow expands the point. "While it may be difficult to believe, Infinite is violent only to those who pose a threat to his gang operation or his pups, not the general populace. I'm in no danger by being there, but you'll have to trust me on my word."

Sonic hums noncommittally, slowing the car to a crawl as they near the Den. Ruby irises watch his reflection in the passenger window carefully. They wouldn't have gotten this far without his trust; the youngster carries secrets in his head Shadow never wanted revealed to anyone, let alone an idealistic coworker. The azure could have easily sold his boss out to Eggman over the last week and gotten himself a promotion. But as it transpired, Sonic has too much integrity to be underhanded, choosing to trust his old mentor's judgement over advancing his own career.

_ You're unaware of our promotions,  _ he realises, noting the lines of stress afflicting his face from one weekend of micromanaging the Chaotics Quarter.  _ I hope you adjust to my old responsibilities well, hedgehog. They'll be far from temporary, when Towers uses the announcement of the first Chaotic Superintendent and our second Chaotic Detective to overshadow Eggman's crimes. _

They pull up more than twenty feet from the Den and Shadow pops his door immediately, holding it open a crack in indecision before turning back to his protogé. "Thank you," he states softly, his tone laced with a sincerity usually reserved for threats. Sonic remains silent, peach lips pressed into a fine line and emerald eyes staring at the road ahead, but an ear turns on the elder as Shadow continues. "For your insight and trusting my judgement, despite knowing who I associate with. You're a good cop, kid. A good cop… and a good friend."

Feeling goosebumps crawling up his arms, Sonic nods curtly in response without looking at his mentor. It feels awkward, not an interaction he should be having with a formerly volatile superior, but doesn't manage to summon enough courage to ask if nearly dying changed his outlook before Shadow snorts and levers his aching frame out of the car with a sharp grunt of pain. "If there's so much as a scratch on Nicole's paintwork on Wednesday, I will throttle you. Pick me up at eleven-thirty sharp. Don't be late."

Shadow slams the door and walks briskly towards the den, hand habitually searching his coat for a smoke. The azure watches his enigma of a mentor slow his pace after about six feet, obviously struggling to maintain the stride on his stitches. A pressure he hadn't felt building inside the car suddenly dissipates and Sonic sinks into the leather seat cover with a relieved sigh, head lolling back to the padded rest and eyes fluttering closed. Mostly, he's thankful everything has turned out okay, but he's also looking forward to collapsing into bed as soon as he gets home.

_ It's been a really long,  _ really _ weird week… _

\--

After his unwarranted explosion at Gray two days prior, Infinite had made a conscious effort not to drink while awaiting news on both their new foothold in Central and the detective's status. It hasn't been easy, but memories of his former Owner's excessive drinking and violence keep him straight, especially with the accompanying nightmares. Truth be told, they're also memories, flashes of a life far removed from the one he's carved out in the city's underbelly but once equally as real as the present, echoed in cold sweats and the aching of his numerous scars.

Without another crutch, he's reverted back to old coping habits. A bed usually strewn with layers of blankets is all but bare, the sheets stripped then entwined into a single mass of linens reminiscent of a wild canid nest site. It started on the mattress, but a single night sees the bundle tucked into a dark corner of his room, out of sight of anyone that might peer inside the cracked door. Unless he has something requiring his attention, Infinite stays in his room, coming out only to eat, review Gray's latest report and write it up for his own records, since the elder is barely literate.

Both the office and his nest are littered with other telltale signs of stress; his handwriting is hard and jagged, he needs to be told to eat, his clothes aren't freshly laundered or pressed and he's been compulsively grooming his tail to keep his claws busy. His fur is glossy but starting to thin where over-combing damaged the shafts and made strands fall out. Gray has been making sure he eats and sleeps, even smartening him up whenever he is to see the rest of the Squad, but Infinite is ashamed to admit he's barely functioning without his Detective.

_ Gray is right, he has made me weak.  _

Dark claws clench into the flesh of his tail. It's a painful ground against the sudden surge of self-hatred rearing its head but it's also effective. Within a few seconds, the sensation has passed and Infinite resumes blindly combing his tail from base to tip. If it were anyone else responsible for his lapse in mental stability, he'd gladly rip their entrails out and personally scatter them as compost. For decades, he's relied on only himself to maintain his position as boss of the Jackal Squad. Shadow should be as inconsequential as all the others he's fucked for stress relief.

The jackal had shown Shadow as much care and compassion as any other harlot willing to take his dick; not a lot. Infinite didn't believe he could get attached to anyone with his upbringing and even if he could, didn't want to. Guys or dames quickly become liabilities on the streets and targets to rivals looking for a one-sided negotiation. Relationships were for other people, not ex-fighters who sell drugs to feed a motley bunch of rejects he'd quietly refer to as his family. 

_ If only it were so simple…  _

Shadow was supposed to be a piece of ass and nothing more, a plaything with no experience or expectations. He was oblivious when they first met, ashamed of sexuality and mortified Infinite could even consider homosexual relations. It made sense after being raised by Humans, but that made him more interesting. The male hedgehog was young and naive, delightfully oblivious to Chaotic norms and lost in a Human philosophy unsuited to his biology. 

_ Favourites come and go, but not you.. _

Teaching him to embrace his desires took years, but the sex it produced was worth the wait. He quickly became a favourite and by the time Shadow made Detective, he was the only lay Infinite entertained. Street girls were lacklustre, and common whores looking to trade sex for favours now repulsed him even more. He hadn't realised it then, but now it's clear he made an unconscious choice regarding his interests long ago.

_ I chose Shadow. _

Unsettled by that thought, large ears fold back and a soft whine escapes into the silent room. He knew something was wrong for a while. No one else's presence lifted his mood so much, nor did he care to find someone else who could mimic the effect. When Shadow began to turn up, drink his whiskey and complain about work multiple times a week, he'd never felt so content. Infinite became the boss the Squad knows to be fierce but fair; his prior outbursts tempered, not just by their trysts, but his company as well.

When Shadow started calling him _Fin,_ the jackal's heart skipped. He began to call the hedgehog _my_ _Detective_ at about the same time, but never to his face. He'd told himself it was too _weak_ to be so possessive of a lover but now he's not sure. It'd felt like Shadow wanted their kiss as much as he did.

He hadn't spent much time thinking about it. He'd had a whole gang to feed that seemed to grow by the year, a rival who kept trying to muscle in on his deals, undercutting his price with poor quality Dust and stealing his clients. There wasn't time to stop or consider personal details while working closely with the ebon to set up raids, ruin Nack's deals in return and then divert the SSPD attention away from the Squad. What little time they had was usually spent fucking in the office, always preluded by a fight about something trivial.

_ Was it returned affection, or a fear of death that drove you? _

The front door creaks open and large ears perk to attention, an unconsciously held breath burning in the jackal's chest as two voices - one certainly Gray, but the other far too low to identify - head into the kitchen and out of earshot. The uncertainty makes the already wired jackal even twitchier. Infinite hates surprises, especially uninvited guests, though the paranoia would have passed without a response if it weren't for the cheers erupting in the games room on the other side of the house.

Whether he'll engage in the impromptu celebration or not, the jackal scowls and gets to his feet before heading downstairs in just his shirt and slacks, his waistcoat open and socks warming his feet. It won't be difficult to feign having business to conclude in the office, not use it as an excuse to make the Squad quiet down. He's not in the mood to entertain potential business partners or let an opportunistic sex worker bleed his boys dry.  _ If they want to waste their money, they can go to a bar. I don't run a brothel- _

Barely inside the kitchen-diner, Infinite freezes on the threshold with a hand on the wooden frame, suddenly struggling to draw breath let alone berate the Squad for being loud. Standing next to the girls as Figit hands over colourful sweet wrappers one at a time, dictating the flavour each had contained carefully before he offers another, is Shadow. The ebon has a mess of bandage and gauze around his waist that looks fresh, the white as striking against his fur as the small, entertained smile on his tan muzzle. 

It's a surreal sight; the hedgehog murmurs appreciative sounds for each crinkled empty wrapper, carefully stows it in a pocket then takes another, so focused on the child-minded fox he's not noticed the others in the room slowly fall silent upon seeing the boss standing in the door. Under their scrutiny, the jackal stands straighter and sets his jaw defiantly while beneath the strong facade, barely contained  _ delight  _ warms his body even as a sense of confusion settles across his senses.

_ You came straight here…? _

Having had an eye on Infinite since he entered and realising he needs a private audience with the detective, Gray finishes his beer and sets the glass down loudly. It draws the attention of everyone in the room. Crimson irises lock with dichromats and Infinite feels the air in his lungs seize. Shadow looks concerned before he smiles at Figit and ruffles his head fur. "Thank you," the ebon states, voice gruffer than usual. "I missed you too, Figit. I'll put them with the others when I can go home."

It's a softness in the grouchy detective Infinite hasn't been privy to previously. His compassion for children has been evident in the past; Shadow found the bi-tailed fox a job and saved pups from the system, but he's never interacted with kids in front of Infinite before. The gentle smile reserved for Figit sends a wave of  _ something  _ through the jackal as it spreads across tan lips, an unfamiliar but comforting sensation that envelopes his soul like a warm, well-used blanket.

Once Infinite finally gets his brain to respond, he addresses Gray. "Take the boys out." It's an order rather than a suggestion, one the Squad immediately gets excited about and begins to cheer. Infinite ignores them, eyes locking with ruby once more across the room as Figit returns to Desi's side and nuzzles under an arm at the sudden outburst. "Celebrate the Detective's recovery at the bar. Shadow and I have business prospects to discuss, before we toast his health in a more private setting."

Shadow's expression alters very subtly; the slight frown returns as Figit moves away, which soon twists into a concerned furrow of dark brows. He continues to meet the jackal's gaze, unphased by the ruckus around him or the seriousness of Infinite's tone beyond a tightened jaw and stiff posture. His defensiveness isn't particularly reassuring, but the jackal chooses to ignore it as he strides past the hedgehog into his office, leaving the door ajar for Shadow to follow.

_ It's time to decide if our business is concluded, Detective… _


	29. Validation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hard work gets rewarded, in many faculties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys. Penultimate chapter. Its been a hell of a ride, but I've enjoyed every second of it. Thank you for being here with me for this project of love. This fic is like my baby and I'll be sad - but proud - to see it flourish into a full fic soon.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: VALIDATION**

Entering the office behind the jackal, Shadow quietly closes the door with a sharp gaze on the back of his head. The usually perfectly maintained white locks look unkempt, not yet filthy to the touch but certainly unwashed for two days. An equally old waistcoat hangs open over a crinkled shirt, untucked from the waistband of unbelted pants lacking pressed creases. Infinite stops in front of his desk and presses his palms to the wood in continued silence, shoulders hunched and back arched. 

The stance makes Shadow hang back cautiously; he looks ready to strike as so many emotions assault the hedgehog's brain, it's becoming difficult to focus. He'd walked into the Den with an almost unshakeable belief this would be something else, that he would run into Fin in this office - not the one they struck a deal within almost twenty-three years ago, but full of memories regardless - and something…profound would take place, not this tension.

_This feels worse than the beginning._

He doesn't understand why, only that the air is thick and Infinite looks ready to kill someone. Conflicted about simply bringing up their kiss and asking if it meant something, or if it were a cheap distraction tactic, the ebon waits for the jackal to speak instead. His chest aches with unspoken questions and his shoulders burn with the fatigue of his anxiety. His wound stings with the same rhythm also, the pulse of a strained heart agitating the nerves.

"Say something," Infinite growls, but while he may have finally spoken, Shadow can't get his words to comply. They've dried on his tongue and sunk back down his throat, cowardly in the face of the Squad boss' menacingly quiet tone. His silence rewarded with a harsh glare over a shoulder Shadow has to fight the urge to shrink beneath, his maw opens, but still nothing. This only angers Infinite further. "Why are you _here,_ Detective?" The canid barks, hands curling into fists with fury. "What do you _want?"_

It's then the detective's uncertainty morphs into concern; this isn't the confident Fin he's accustomed to. The jackal's eyes look slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep and trim muscle bulges from a thin frame, his clothing and fur far from presentable. The hedgehog notices the empty whiskey decanter on the desk and frowns. Infinite rarely drank and barely ever alone, yet the decanter is bone-dry and left discarded on the desk instead of tucked away.

_Anger doesn't make him drink, he thrives on it._

Something isn't right. His training and inquisitive nature taking over, Shadow decides to push a few of the gangster's buttons. It isn't difficult. "You look like shit," the ebon comments truthfully. The low, warning growl he gets in return is predictable, but the detective isn't perturbed. He takes a step forward, scowling at the immediate deepening of pitch he earns for his trouble. "If you want me to go, say so. There's no need to be an ass, Fin."

Infinite's jaw tightens as soon as the nickname leaves tan lips, a heartbeat all that passes before he turns and stalks toward the detective with his own lips curled back into a snarl. "If I wanted you here I'd have sent Clyde to collect you," the jackal informs in a threatening tone, advancing on his prey swiftly. Shadow feels his quills rise but can't force them flat as he retreats to the wall, his ears folding in concern he may have pushed too hard. "And if I want you _gone_ , you'll be face-down in the river by dusk. But I asked you a question, hedgehog; _why are you here?"_

 _You're done, aren't you?_ It's the only thing that makes sense to the detective backed against the wall, the gangster he'd forged more than an alliance with decades before looming over his thin frame. He looks away, barely able to breathe as hopelessness eats away at his resolve. _You took payment for your services and now, you're trying to scare me off. Did it ever mean anything to you, besides gratification? Do you even realise how hopelessly attached I am to you…?_

Time stretches between them as Shadow struggles to verbalise his internal monologue. Not through lack of feeling, but fear. He's afraid everything running through his mind is true, that Fin was never after anything beyond sex and favours regarding the SSPD. He's afraid of losing everything he woke believing he had to live for, instead of surrendering his soul in recovery. His life revolves around this explosive Chaotic and Shadow isn't sure he'll cope with being alone, not after everything they've shared. 

With a frustrated, open-mouthed snarl that sounds more like a shout, Infinite grasps the hedgehog's jaw and forces him to look into amber and lapis irises hardened by fury. Shadow can smell anger pouring off him in waves, masking a subtle scent the ebon can't quite pinpoint. He frowns and unfocuses, trying to identify it, only to gasp when sharp claws dig into his delicate flesh. "Last chance," the jackal warns, muzzles so close his breath warms his face. There's not a lick of alcohol on it; even if he drank recently, the jackal is sober now. "What did you come here for, Shadow?"

Unable to think sensibly, Shadow leans forward, ignoring a sting of claws breaking the skin as tan lips meet white once more.

It's awfully clumsy; the hedgehog has no idea what he's doing, nor does he remember their last kiss in great detail. Forcing his lips against Infinite's he freezes like stone, raw emotions driving an unusually bold move he realises too late is foolish. A second is all that passes before Shadow pulls back and gasps for the air he forgot to breathe beforehand, ruby irises searching for signs of reciprocal feelings in the jackal's widened eyes. Words finally come to the ebon, uncertain but laced with honest sentiments.

"I... came back for you, Fin."

His chin yanked forwards, Shadow releases a sharp cry of fear, certain he's going to be mauled until barely recognisable, then thrown into the nearest dumpster for trash day. Ebony hands brace on the wall in case he needs to throw his weight forwards, only for his arms to fall to his sides in limp surprise when Infinite gently presses their lips together again; his grasp loosening as he brings his body closer, an unfamiliar murr of content echoing in the canid's chest where they press together.

Engulfed in the other's scent and at the mercy of his emotions, the detective instantly melts into the contact, uncaring if this is a trick before his entrails get scattered in the backyard. It's all he wants from his jackal, what he would die for. Shadow can't help mirroring the content mutters with soft purrs as emboldened by Infinite's receptiveness, he wraps a dark arm around a shoulder while his other hand slips into flowing, white locks. 

Just as encouraged by Shadow's boldness, the gangster tilts his head and deepens their contact, tongue trailing across tan lips in a bid for entry. Monochromatic fingers scale slowly down the ebon's throat, drinking in his shivers as Shadow seems unable to refuse his request, maw opening timidly for more as an aroused heat emanates from the usually-stoic detective's cheeks. Infinite continues down his detective's torso, following the line of his open waistcoat to a hip to grasp.

He ventures inside Shadow's mouth for the first time with a soft groan; the hedgehog tastes delightful, pure as could be with not a hint of alcohol or smoke on his tongue. The ebon shivers and attempts to reciprocate the attention, entwining their tongues with a nervousness Infinite would find humorous if he weren't able to lick the other's molars already. Shadow slides his hand down the jackal's back from shoulders to tail and Fin can't think straight anymore, the hand previously braced on the wall beside them groping Shadow's ass and hoisting him up against it.

When Shadow hisses in pain, Infinite pulls back, jolting back to reality so suddenly he struggles to comprehend the cry before recalling the injury. "You're still healing," the jackal states as he strokes a flushed cheek, keeping his detective pinned breathless against the wall. It takes all of his restraint to stall and not keep going despite knowing Shadow wants it just as badly as him. "We should discuss this first-"

"You're what I want," Shadow mutters. The ebon nuzzles into his hand, enjoying his delicate touch. He hasn't felt the warmth of affectionate contact since losing Maria; but coming from Infinite, it's better. "Not just the sex, but all of it. I choose _you_ , asshole."

The admittance sends heat straight through Infinite's core not as arousal or even infatuation, but of acceptance. It's almost too much for him to comprehend, too potent to temper without an outlet. The jackal leans in for another kiss, keeping this contact chaste for his own self-control as Shadow purrs deeply and tries to kiss back. His chosen mate is inexperienced and sloppy, but to Infinite it's only more endearing; he feels blessed to teach and learn with him.

Infinite breaks away with a quiet gasp for air and cups Shadow's burning cheek, unable to remain silent any longer. "I choose you too, grumpy bastard. I chose you a _long_ time ago…"

\--

Shadow hates press conferences. He hasn't attended once since receiving his Detective's badge, avoiding the camera flashes and probing questions from hungry journalists by being inexplicably busy whenever Eggman had called an event. Even shielded by Towers addressing the crowd behind the makeshift podium they dragged out for the event, the bursts of light makes his eyes hurt. The hedgehog squints at the civilians gathered at the base of the steps leading up to SSPD Headquarters, trying to keep his expression neutral even as his lips fight to curl into a grimace.

Having spent the last two days in close proximity to Fin, leaving to attend had been both difficult, and a relief. Shadow isn't used to sharing his personal space so often, nor the constant ruckus of voices or Figit's unrelenting excitement to see him every time he made himself and his lover a coffee. Even sharing a bed has been hard; the ebon has constantly woken up to find the jackal sprawled across his back or clutching him close, arm wrapped so tightly around his chest Shadow can barely breathe.

It's nice, but compared to his apartment, the Den is suffocating.

Standing with his hands clasped behind his back beside Sonic, listening to Towers debrief the public, the mild stress of living in the Den again lifts and permits unexpectedly potent clarity: He wants to be there, even if it's difficult to find any personal space beyond showering. He wants to be with Fin, and the Squad is like a package under the jackal's arm. _I don't have to adjust,_ he huffs sadly to himself, ignoring the questioning side eye Sonic sends in silent response. _I can't live there again, with this job._

Another photo flashes, dragging Shadow back to the present. Towers seems to be winding up his speech, summarising while being as vague about details as possible in the face of scandal. His voice projects clearly across the bustling square despite his age, sincerity and confidence in every syllable. If he wasn't set on being Commissioner, the elder would make an outstanding Public Relations Specialist.

"...after thorough investigation by multiple parties, the truth has come to light; Commissioner Eggman had motive and means to keep the Robotnik investigation stalled, concealing connections to the deceased and forging his own career using false evidence, endangering the trust Station Square has placed in the SSPD. This is why, as your Commissioner, it is with great sadness I must strip Doctor Ivo "Eggman" Robotnik of his accolades."

There's a brief pause. Towers hangs his head in disappointment, fingers curling against the podium in physical anguish. "He has done our people, Human and Chaotic alike, a grave disservice that cannot be overlooked. Doctor Eggman has ripped the rug from beneath our feet, revealing decades of abuse of his power, your faith, and using our biases against progress. He is not the man I believed him to be as a recruit, but I hope he has not left you jaded. I wish to repair your trust in Law Enforcement."

Towers half-turns to the hedgehogs behind him, beckoning them to step forwards. Sonic almost springs to the front before, at the last minute, deciding to restrain himself and allow Shadow to go first. His mentor does so almost hesitantly, maintaining a distant stare over the crowd as he steps beside the podium. The azure takes up position to Towers' left side a moment later, though he can't help but wave and smile at the flashing cameras.

"In the wake of my predecessor's deceit, I offer you equality and transparency, beginning with our Chaotic brothers." The human motions to Shadow, his actions swift and precise. The ebon is obviously uncomfortable at the renewed attention but remains unflinching as Towers continues. "Our first Chaotic recruit, first Chaotic Detective and currently Detective Chief Inspector of the Chaotics Quarter, Shadow the hedgehog, was injured during his interrogation of Doctor Eggman regarding the Robotnik case."

The ebon flinches at the memory but doesn't comment, keeping his shoulders back and chest poised to remain professional. "He handled both a difficult situation and his injuries with admirable bravery, subduing his assailant even as he bled from potentially mortal wounds. Decades of dedication, fighting for truth and an indomitable will for justice have finally come to fruition, and it is with great honour and pride that today, I bestow upon Shadow the first Chaotic Superintendent title."

The uproar of support is deafening as Towers steps from behind the podium and retrieves a leather-bound, dark green case from a breast pocket, flipping it open to reveal the badge within. He offers it to Shadow without hesitation, a smile finally on thin lips as the scar across his eye gleams in the camera flashes. His own lips feeling incredibly dry with pride and nausea, Shadow takes hold of the opposite side of the wallet and pauses, maintaining eye contact with his superior. 

Even though it's to permit photos, the ebon can _feel_ the intense emotions pouring off of Towers; pride in his former mentee, but also an unspoken trust. "Congratulations, Superintendent. I look forward to working with you once you return to work.

"Thank you," the former DCI states once the cheering calms, at once folding the badge and slipping it into his pocket. Thankful Towers doesn't request a speech, Shadow slips back again to be silent during further celebration. It feels good to be recognised, but as Shadow gazes up at the sky and the clouds part, letting the sun warm an already pleasant spring day he smiles, hoping his deceased family are also in attendance.

 _Thank you_ , he mouths to the sky. _For everything you gifted me, in life and in death._

"Truth be told," the Commissioner continues without missing a beat, "If it were not for Junior Detective Sonic the Hedgehog's investment in his mentor's case, his continued presence at his mentor's side and ability to make quick, difficult decisions under immense stress, Superintendent Shadow could have succumbed to his injuries long before being found. Sonic not only retrieved medical assistance and provided transport to the hospital, but also had his mentor admitted on the brink of death."

Sonic goes a little pink as Towers steps down from the podium a second time, offering the azure a closed wallet with one hand and a shining silver medal with the other. Taken by surprise by the two items, Sonic takes them gingerly as Towers continues. "For your diligence and loyalty despite being new to the force, it is my honour to present you with the Outstanding Young Officer Award for your services protecting your mentor in addition to a true reward for a dedication to truth; your Detective's badge."

Not expecting either award, Sonic stumbles over his words as he takes both, staring at the wallet and medal in his palms with a bewildered expression. It's only when a member of the press calls out for photos the azure snaps back to his usual persona and with an enormous smile, poses with his medal raised in one hand and the opened badge case clutched in the other. He looks about ready to explode with joy - or burst into tears - until the Commissioner retakes the podium and hushes the crowd.

"Finally, I must acknowledge an employee who has exhibited an admirable grasp of Chaotic traditions, has assisted many others with their investigations without acknowledgement and has the potential to become an organised, meticulous Detective given a chance." This time, Towers turns the whole way to where Topaz stands quietly by the doors, her hands clasped tightly in front of her skirt. She looks more anxious than Sonic as she's beckoned to the podium, her movements stiff as she pauses between him and Sonic, the latter of whom gives a friendly smile.

Towers turns back to the crowd. "Topaz Slater has worked at the precinct for seven years. She has proven time and again to be not only capable of police work, but was overlooked for the promotion she deserved despite my recommendation due to her sex. As my final act of recognition, I'm offering Ms. Slater the position of first female Junior Detective. I hope she will accept."

The girl glances out across the crowd, obviously nervous as the mass of bodies falls into silence awaiting her answer. Looking to the Commissioner, she takes a deep breath and straightens her stance, a hand coming to her head in stiff salute. "It would be an honour to serve my city as a Detective in training, Sir."

"Excellent," the elder male's response is lost beneath the cheers as he smiles softly at Topaz, holding her gaze a moment before he clears his throat and silences the gathering once again. "Now, I will take questions for five minutes only. We have jobs to do."

\--

 _Abode Café_ is technically closed, the shutters pulled and doors bolted against the impending nightly chill. The fire still burns in the kitchen, providing extra light and much needed warmth to those still within its walls. Shadow is thankful for the heat that seeps into the bar area, for even with piping hot coffee in hand and a hot meal in his stomach, he has been prone to feeling the cold all his life.

Though embers aren't the only thing warming his chest tonight. His last few days with the Squad was a delightful whirlwind of strange but enjoyable new experiences; the Squad were content to have him there, the mood had been jovial, but most of all, having an open and affectionate relationship with Infinite while he recovered was the icing on the cake. Something shifted within their relationship almost immediately, a weight lifted from their shoulders neither has been fully aware of.

_It's not just sex anymore. It hasn't been for a while._

Beside him, Sonic rambles about the day's events, excitement in every syllable as he shows Amy his badge and medal, telling her all that Towers said and promised. The azure hasn't noticed how enraptured the fuschia is with him, how she's been cleaning the same, shining spot of the breakfast bar for ten minutes; all while staring into Sonic's eyes, completely enraptured by the man she has so much respect and love for.

He wants to leave them alone, to let them bond and celebrate his Junior's promotion without an older Chaotic dragging them down. With his own dinner already scarfed down and dregs of his coffee quickly knocked back, Shadow stands and places more than enough money to pay for both their meals and a generous tip on the counter, pushing it towards Amy. "Take him out and have a good time. He's earned it. I'll see you soon."

"Hang on, Shads! The place is almost closed. We can get a drink and toast our success together." Shadow retrieves his coat and hat from the rack by the door, shrugging on the former after he perches the latter between his ears. The discontent in Sonic's tone is palpable as he adds softly. "You… want to celebrate with us, right? We're still friends…? We can go to Rouge's and-"

"You're a good friend," the ebon states. Flipping his collar up in anticipation of cold, he offers a smile over a shoulder and grips the door handle, words lighter than air before they pass tan lips. "But I don't need a drink tonight. Have one for me, Detective."


	30. TLC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tender Loving Care

**CHAPTER THIRTY: TLC**

It's relatively late; the sun set hours ago, leaving the Den dark and shadowed by weak lighting and flickering candles. Without heating and still too much energy to sleep, the Squad have again headed to the bar with money to burn; Gray is looking forward to seeing his dame and the boys need little excuse to warm up from within using Espio's cheap liquor. They've been gone almost forty minutes, leaving their boss to his surreal thoughts in the cold, derelict house they called “home” to await his now official mate.

To anyone besides the Squad, mate would be a strong word. The gangster and his detective may have engaged in sexual acts for seventeen years, but never has either expressed a sentiment for the other. Their pre-fornication fights were always loud enough to be heard throughout the first floor of the Den and Shadow's limp was always confirmation of what happened. Like his Squad, and despite a hidden desire for something more, Infinite always assumed their "transactions" were just that; an emotional relief.

Even as he waited, some part of the jackal believed it all had to be imaginary, or an elaborate ruse to finally pin him down for a conviction after eluding prosecution for so long. Even with the kisses, the nights of intimate yet chaste contact while the ebon's wounds healed and his continued, soft-spoken sentiments, Fin struggles to accept the victory over his troubled past.

Jack had tried to break him, to batter him down and mould him into a vicious, remorseless fighter. The human believed it was his right and his prerogative even as he slunk around in the shadow of his own species, spreading hate and corruption as far as his filthy hands could reach. Jack thought he'd created a monster, the perfect killing machine loyal to his command through fear. He thought he was a King amongst paupers.

_ For years I believed you were successful, but now I see the truth. You were weak to vices, while I have always been strong. _

When Shadow returns that night, they barely make it to the bed. In a moment of spontaneity, Infinite had asked Desi to change the sheets and tidy up a little, something he's never asked either girl to do before. Only Gray was usually permitted to enter, and only if it couldn't be avoided; the gangster's room was a haven of peace and reflection - at least, he told himself it was not rumination - on his past, present conflicts and future plans.

_ But tonight needed to be special _ . A happy fog clouds his mind as he presses Shadow into the pillows, ones he's never shared with a lover before. The sheets smell of fresh spring air and soap, adding uplifting scents to the room chilled by the window left ajar for ventilation, to disguise the scent of must and mold the old house produced in every sealed room.  _ Tonight, I finally have you for myself, Detective.  _ **_All_ ** _ of you. _

Typically the detective groans, arching into his lover impatiently. Infinite enjoys this unfettered desire and cultivates it, smirking into their kiss as a brief request for entry is approved hungrily by heated tan lips. The jackal lowers onto his quarry slowly, sure to press their sheaths together, devouring the rewarding soft gasp Shadow utters as he purposely arches his back, compressing the rapidly swelling pouches together with a quiet, satisfied huff.

Dark fingers curl into white locks, catching the stream of hair over Infinite's shoulder and locking them back against his scalp in a fist. An ebon arm encases the jackal's torso as more fingers find his back, their subsequent gentle tracing of the most brutal of Jack's afflictions on his flesh inciting shivers along the formerly abused Chaotic's mangled pelt. No other accepted his scars so easily; Shadow has never shown revulsion, unlike an endless slew of prior lays that managed a look and regretted it.

_ But you never were just another lay, were you? _

_ There was always a fire in your heart. _

As if on cue, the detective wraps a leg over the jackal's hip and grinds their groins together sharply, hissing through their kiss in a combination of arousal and regret. Infinite takes his boldness adoringly, murring in content while Shadow clutches at his hair and back for relief. Once he relaxes a little, the jackal chuckles as he pulls away, sitting up just enough to dislodge the leg limply splayed across his hip and enjoy the ebon's fluster.

Amusingly, Shadow is already a mess; his cheeks burn beneath tan fur and his chest heaves for breath, the hand on Infinite's back falling to the sheets listless as his quivering cock tip pokes needily from its sheath, wetting ebon stomach fur with precum. "Patience," the jackal chastises playfully, leaning forward again. He entwines the limp ebony digits with his own and presses the mesh of fingers to the mattress beside Shadow's head, brushing noses with a teasing smile. "We have all night, my Detective."

His pelt darkens further and Shadow looks toward their clasped hands for a distraction. "You asshole," the ebon breathes, not at all sure what the insult is for. Flexing his fingers against the coal furred knuckles keeping his captive, Shadow purrs as Infinite leaves a trail of lingering, hot kisses along his jaw and down the side of his neck. "Jesus Christ… _ I'm all yours,  _ Fin.  _ All yours.  _ Just fuck me already."

"There's that fire," Infinite murmurs into ebony flesh. Hearing Shadow beg to be owned is intoxicating and running out of neck to adore, the canid grazes his fangs across Shadow's jugular notch, murring deeply as the ebon clenches his hair and whines restlessly. Infinite gives his neck a quick, rough grooming before he resumes kissing down a collarbone, punctuating each peck with a few choice words. "I could never temper it. You were always too stubborn to back down, even when offered the chance…"

Shadow snorts, looking back with a combative intensity not echoed by his quivering muscles or half-erect manhood. "Even if I wanted, it's not like I had a choice." His tight grasp of Infinite's fair hair finally lessening, he traces the jackal's scalp with claws, expression softening as crimson irises hold dichromats and stare up oddly doe-eyed at an angle from his chest fur. "I thought there was too much at stake; my badge, my freedom, my case… it took a while, but I realised it wasn't just that, but you too, Fin… I couldn't walk away from you."

A smile breaks across Infinite's muzzle. Untainted by confidence and lust, it's a genuine expression of happiness the hedgehog hasn't seen his lover portray in the past. Beyond their tangle of limbs and flush bodies, between attentive, scarred ears, the tail Shadow cuddles when they had opportunity to sleep together after sex lazily sways from side to side in a tentative joy that brings a matching smile to tan lips. 

"I've never seen your tail wag before..."

His chest nestled comfortably on the ebon's heaving abdomen, the comment comes as a surprise; Infinite hadn't realised his tail was actively betraying his newfound softness and stills it against Shadow's leg reflexively. The hedgehog's brows knit and he opens his maw to speak, but the jackal sucks a hardened nipple into his mouth and teases it fiercely to silence him, watching through his detective's bushy, white chest fur. It's delightful to see his lover's head fall back to the pillow with a high-pitched cry, dark claws digging almost painfully into his tormentor's head.

Once content the quivering male won't be able to offer a retort, Infinite brings his free hand to his neglected nipple and gives it a firm rub, pulling off the other with a slurped _pop_ of air. He leans over his prey again, waiting until crimson irises crack open to lick his lips and press a knee between the hedgehog's legs, delighted by the open-mouthed gasp he receives for his trouble. "If you're noticing mundane details like that, I need to _delve deeper_ and _try_ _harder_ …"

The jackal releases Shadow's hand and presses two fingers into his open mouth. He jerks in surprise but is reduced back to a puddle of whimpered moans and quivering limbs as Infinite licks and nips a drooping ear. "Make them nice and wet for me," he whispers, hot breath ghosting across delicate, rosy flesh. He wriggles the fingers, then presses them to the shy tongue that ventures forth as a light pinch of a sensitive nipple has Shadow arch upwards. "I'm going to touch every part of you, claim you  _ properly,  _ tonight. Does that sound inviting, my Detective?"

Shadow whimpers and bucks his hips, shuddering when the knee between his legs firmly rubs against his nethers. Shaking thighs struggle to hold his meager weight as he lowers his ass back to the mattress, eyes closed and throat quivering. Infinite can't keep his tail from thumping the bed happily as he noses into the hedgehog's neck and inhales his potent arousal. "You'll be rewarded soon, but it's important you enjoy this as much as I do. Allow me to prepare you thoroughly, so you may reap the same benefits as I."

He isn't sure what 'preparation' refers to, but Shadow whimpers in anticipation, gaining confidence as he slathers saliva onto the intruding fingers until the digits are soaked and withdrawn. His maw feels empty, huffs of breath warming the air between them while lethargic crimson eyes crack slightly. Infinite looms over him, his heated breaths brushing over sensitive neck flesh as cool, sodden fingers scale tantalisingly close to a throbbing cock before slipping between his legs. "What are you-" 

The Detective cuts off with a surprised cry and a full-body jerk as wet fingers brush his anal sphincter. Infinite probes the delicate, flexing muscle carefully, pressing firm kisses along the underside of his lover's jaw and massaging the taut muscle with the hedgehog's spit. "There's more to pleasure than cocks," the jackal mutters, skimming his fangs across Shadow's throat. He's rewarded with a renewed, scrabbled grasp on his bicep and draws his partner closer, rutting his groin into the hedgehog's inner thigh with a low groan.

"Now, trust me… and  _ relax." _

It's a lot harder than Infinite makes it sound but slowly, Shadow turns to pudding under those skilled fingers, anus quivering with shockwaves of pleasure from the unfamiliar foreplay. Infinite is unapologetically thorough, teasing the tension out of his ring in a slow, attentive rhythm until it's loose enough to allow a finger to slip past without resistance. As soon as it does, the ebon grips the jackal's shoulder so tight his claws leave deep tracks in coal flesh, lips parted in a soundless gasp. 

Infinite smirks and pushes in deeper, reveling in his Detective's genuine, near-painless cries of bliss. "You're such a tight-ass," he growls approvingly into Shadow's neck, slowly kissing back up to parted tan lips hungrily. He can't help but imagine his throbbing cock being squeezed by those tight walls milking him for all he's worth and finally, his manhood slips entirely free of his pouch with a small whine.  _ "Christ,  _ you're intoxicating… I could fuck you all night. Though if you loosen up enough, maybe I will…"

Barely able to focus, Shadow clutches at his lover with his teeth grit not against agony, but overstimulation. The jackal isn't going to slow down now, not with his own cock throbbing for release, but Shadow welcomes searing pleasure, minor stretching aches and Infinite's smooth thrusts inside his pampered asshole. It feels more familiar than the slow, gentle teasing; reassurance that despite everything that  _ has _ changed, nothing is truly different.  _ "You're still a sadistic bastard- _ "

The jackal recaptures tan lips before he can finish, the steadying arm beneath them slipping lower. He cups an ass cheek to pull the hedgehog's hips up, allowing his fingers to penetrate deeper inside the moist, flexing cavern. Their cocks brush and both males gasp, then Infinite nips his bruised lip almost playfully, the visible shock and mild discomfort adding layers to Shadow's already obvious bliss. The gangster feels his prey coming undone and waits, coal digits buried to the knuckles in his ass, soft kisses and gentle licks of his cut lip easing the fall from an intensely building climax. "You're still a willing masochist, hedgehog. Or do you want me to stop…?"

His answer is obviously  _ no;  _ Shadow is panting, sharp claws still leaving trails of fire over the jackal's bicep. He clutches on tight, as if he'll die should he let go. Despite pleasure being abruptly paused he shivers, bucking against the fingers nestled between his anal walls as strings of hot, potent precum dirties both their cocks and pelts.  _ "Christ Almighty, Fin. Just fuck me before I do it myself!" _

Infinite straightens and appears to be in thought, though a smirk turning up the corners of his lips makes it obvious he's teasing. The lost contact between them draws a long, needy whine from tan lips as the gangster 'considers' the proposal. "An intriguing prospect," he mutters in feigned uncertainty. A brief wiggle of the fingers still wedged deep inside his mate effortlessly cuts off whatever Shadow opens his mouth to say in response. "While I do prefer to be in control, I can hardly refuse such an offer…"

On the verge of rolling over, raising his tail in blatant submission and hoping the canid can't resist his favourite position, Shadow whimpers as his fingers slip free to firmly massage his sphincter again. The hedgehog gasps and shivers, arching his back to buck his hips against them, barely able to hear Infinite whisper as he leans in and nips an ear weighted with lust and desire.

"I'm all yours."

If he wasn't already horny, those three words would have sent him spiraling towards desire. Instead it ignites his veins and Shadow acts impulsively; embracing the jackal with both arms, the canid is rolled beneath him with a satisfying huff of surprise. Despite the burning need in his loins, the ebon braces his palms on either side of Infinite's shoulders to gaze down at his prize as an additional heat wave flushes his chest and aches in his cock.

Infinite gazes up with an unexpectedly vulnerable expression on his face; widened mismatched eyes and uncertain, quivering pale lips adding a touch of fear as his body becomes rigid in the sheets. The jackal initially responds instinctively, his hand raised to Shadow's throat while the other braces against white chest fur, prepared to fight off a perceived assailant. When Shadow doesn't flinch or fight back, his senses are jolted to reality and Infinite quickly lowers his hands to the hedgehog's upper arms.

The detective lets him settle, panting from arousal while Infinite jerks back, then slowly relaxes into the mattress. All indicators of fear or anger quickly follow suit, leaving the jackal sprawled out in the pristine sheets. He stretches, encouraging Shadow's eyes to roam his strong muscles and toned torso right down to the prominent erection just inches from the ebon's own fleshy cock. 

His tail sways lazily between his legs as Shadow devours all he's offered and back up again, to a toothy grin and irises half-lidded with lust. Unable to resist, Shadow dips closer and recaptures the jackal's lips in a heated kiss, this time actively battling for his dominance as their throbbing robs press together once more. It feels electric, suffocating and  _ divine _ ; he doesn't want it to end, even to ride Infinite's cock, opting instead to thrust his hips and grind their erections together.

With the jackal's cock already coated with Shadow's semen, they slide past each other with near-frictionless ease, creating a white-hot flush of pleasure that has Shadow shaking from head to toe within a few minutes. He can barely think straight and lets out soft, needy whines through his frustrated pants when he's forced to retreat and breathe, burying his face in his lover's neck as he tries to find a better angle and quickly dampening dark fur with his hot, desperate breaths.

Further, jerky hip movements drive him closer to the desired climax. Infinite trails his hands across the hedgehog's shoulders and back, bending his knees beneath Shadow's ass to assist his weaker frame in his endeavours. The Detective's display of need and passion is unexpected but welcome, the incessant pressure on his sensitive manhood and shuddering body rocking against his is deliciously arousing. Shadow seems fit to burst even before managing to properly mount his lover. 

The firm, methodical licks of his throat have Infinite not care for the method, however. Either way, Shadow was using his body to pleasure himself, and it was  _ intoxicating. That's it… Use my cock,  _ he begs silently, clutching at ebon quills with a deep groan when Shadow hits a good spot twice in a row.  _ Give me a good show and I'll return the favour, my Detective… _

Moments later, the ebon's ass pulls further forwards as Shadow slips his hand between them, neglecting his own rod to take a firm hold of the jackal’s cock and line it up with his sphincter. Rather than sit up entirely, the hedgehog rocks onto the heated organ with the rhythm of previous thrusts and practically collapses on the canid. Impaled by unadulterated bliss, Shadow isn't ready for the shockwave that travels up his spine, his whole body set shaking as he pants and whines into Infinite's chest. 

"Christ. You feel so good… I can't move…"

"You're welcome," Infinite murrs contentedly, nosing into ebony fur beside a drooped ear and giving the heated flesh a firm lick. What he intends to be a few reassuring passes becomes a short grooming session as Shadow whimpers, lifting and turning his head to give better access to the appendage and surrounding pelt with shaking purrs. "It means I prepped you properly," the jackal finally adds when he pulls back, content the area has been well attended to with how Shadow is sprawled across his chest in a shivering heap. "Still raring for that ride, or should I-?"

It's a struggle, but the ebon straightens slowly with a groan in his lap, his body still ravaged by pleasure as the new angle buries Infinite's cock even deeper inside his ass. After what seems like an eternity, Shadow finally falls back on his haunches with a strangled whimper; crimson eyes squeezed shut with bliss, panting hard even as they crack lethargically to regard the jackal beneath with mild irritation undermined by his gasps for breath.

"I didn't flip our positions to… roll over and take your cock... like a skirt," he huffs, carefully adjusting himself to get some leverage. After a few false starts, he settles against the thighs tented behind his rear and clutches at the raised knees at his back. It's not the best angle for movement, but he can see all of Infinite from torso to ear tips. A pleasant sight for sure. "Give me a minute… To adjust. It's different…"

Infinite can't take his eyes off him; he might still be a waif of a Chaotic, but there's something about that defiance that makes his physical attributes irrelevant. Shadow looks emaciated in his chosen position, the sharp angle of his back as he grasps back on the jackal's knees making his ribs jut from his torso, papery skin taut over his hips and his collarbone. Even beneath thick, ebony fur, the canid can see it flow like water over his internal structure, not an ounce of excess fat to insulate the weak muscles that shiver below. 

Yet Infinite is enraptured, hypnotised by his character, reaching for the hedgehog's thighs, waist and torso fluff, unconsciously in search of physical contact with the only creature who traces his scars and willingly takes his cock without compensation. There's a deeper connection already there, one he can't find the words for, but he's thankful for it nonetheless.

His touches fuel an inner desire and Shadow finally moves again, a guttural cry of passion as every nerve in his ass sings not with the expected initial pain, but unfettered pleasure. He can't keep his eyes open, barely able to feel the hands hungrily roaming his chest, abdomen and thighs beyond the delightful tingling left in their wake, head thrown back and mouth agape as he tries to maintain some semblance of rhythm despite a rapidly building climax constricting his balls.

Infinite groans and clutches at the hedgehog's thighs, helping his already-tired body continue to lift his meager weight. He can't look away, can't do anything besides watch his Detective come undone so perfectly in his gasp. Shadow flushes from groin to muzzle beneath ebon fur, erect cock bobbing in the heated air between them with every shift. Beads of precum trickle from his penile slit and drip more thick tendrils to the jackal's previously matted stomach, the sight of which has Infinite pining for more.

The room smells of sex and sweat, of heavy breaths and desire so dense no open window could dispel their taint, especially as Shadow loses his rhythm on the verge of ecstasy. Sharp claws dig into flesh as his huffs and gasps become blissful cries, higher and louder than he would usually permit voiced. Ebon thighs shake as his speed increases, cock bouncing so fast it spills drops of cum onto the jackal's chest, bypassing his abdomen entirely.

He might accidentally throw himself off, should he remain this enthusiastic at climax. Infinite takes tight hold of Shadow's waist and steadies his movements, a flutter of some strange emotion in his chest as their eyes meet once more. The Detective's lust has simmered to adoration; exhaustive happiness exudes from Shadow's pores before he throws his head back and cries out, allowing the jackal to continue moving his body as his peak is reached and surpassed, finally allowing the release he craved.

_ "Fin-!" _

He whimpers his lover's name repeatedly as he cums, his entire body on fire as pleasure rips through his core and burns in his balls. In a moment, he's whining between gasps of air as ropes of sticky, hot cum plaster Infinite's chest and abdomen with abandon. The jackal keeps his prize moving slowly throughout, thrusting up firmly with groans of desire to nail the hedgehog's sweet spot over and over, making sure he empties his pent-up seed before the body-rocking orgasm subsides to blissful aftershocks.

Shadow comes down from nirvana hard, falling toward the jackal's soiled chest with very little encouragement. He drops his head in Infinite's neck and whimpers between breaths, satiated cock twitching where it's compressed in his mate's soaked fur. The gangster's quiet murrs and lingering licks between Shadow's brows lull the spent hedgehog into semi-consciousness quickly, so when Infinite gently rolls him onto his back with his cock still buried within his tailhole, the ebon sighs contentedly and cracks an eye.

A tired smile pulls at the edge of tan lips seeing Infinite, though his arms feel too leaden to reach for his face. The jackal's tail sways behind him again as Infinite leans forward, planting more kisses along the hedgehog's muzzle and along his jaw, his heavy breaths deafeningly audible in the suddenly quiet room. "It's not too much?" He asks the question quietly, not wishing to startle his semi-conscious mate but still requiring an acknowledgement of consent to continue in good conscience, even as his hips snap forward of their own volition and Infinite groans. "Christ, you're tight, Shadow… I won't last long…"

"Fin,  _ please,"  _ the hedgehog whines, arching back into his lover and groaning in unison with Infinite as the cock slides deep inside his ass effortlessly, still lubricated by their exchange. He clutches at the jackal's shoulders and pelt, lethargic legs failing to hook over toned hips in a needy scrabble for purchase. "Claim me… in every way possible… _ " _

_ Gladly. _

With a low possessive snarl, Infinite withdraws his manhood and before Shadow can protest the loss of sensation, flips the ebon's listless body onto its stomach, pushing back in with a low growl of pleasure. His mate gasps and whines, face turned aside to see over his shoulder as the jackal snags an arm and pins it behind his back, snapping his hips forward once to subdue any remarks his captive may have. 

Another snap of his hips and this one hits it's mark squarely, pulling a shriek of pleasure from Shadow's chest. Looming over him now, Infinite pulls his arm for emphasis to be compliant and thrusts faster, nailing the ebon's prostate without remorse now he's submitted. "Mine," he growls, scooping dark hips off the bed to be pulled flush with his own. "My Detective."

His climax is coming as fast as predicted and given how tightly Shadow's ass is squeezing his shaft, his mate won't be far behind for his second. Growling quietly, Infinite noses the loose flesh he scruffed during their last foray, begging for license to do so again as his balls begin to twitch. It's a delightful sight when Shadow fists the sheets in his free hand and buries his face in the pillows, baring his scruff for the jackal's fangs as his entire body quakes with need.  _ "Yours… Make me yours…" _

With one last snarl, Infinite lurches forward and clamps into the offered scruff with gusto, getting the slight taste of fresh blood. Shadow groans loudly and cums tiredly, pumping the last of his load directly onto himself and the sheets. The jackal whines with desire and pulls the hedgehog close, thrusting violently into his anal cavity as he nears his own peak before seating his dripping cock to the hilt with a deep snarled cry. His knot swells not a moment later; the muscle fists and lodges his throbbing dick deep inside his mate. Infinite pumps him with burning seed and with it, they both gain an immense sense of completeness.

With a final whimper, Infinite collapses on him, still stuck to his mate but honestly uncaring. When Shadow grunts at the added weight on his back, the jackal curls an arm beneath his waist and rolls, pulling Shadow flush with his chest in the soiled sheets in a single, fluid motion. The room falls into relative silence save for the heavy, rhythmic breaths and occasional hedgehog whimper of pure bliss.

As they fall into an exhausted slumber still coated in the scent and fluids of sex, Infinite's traitorous bushy tail wags lethargically in delight, finally settling protectively around his Detective while his tired murrs permeate the air. Infinite grooms behind both his ears meticulously, content to let his cock soften and slip free in the night as his mate's warmth, the soothing monotony of grooming his fur and sexual exhaustion drag the jackal into blissful sleep.

_ I found my mate, Jack. _

_ You failed. _

**~ F I N ~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it.  
> That's the whole fic.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the 4.5k of pure smut and fluff, and I'd like to thank you all again for being on this ride with us. What a wild but beautiful 11 months this fic was to produce.
> 
> There is a sequel and a mini series planned, so if you'd like more of this AU, subscribe to me or join our discord, where we keep the crack, fan works and quiet silliness.
> 
> Love and stuff, motherfuckers. Shads out.
> 
> https://discord.gg/reCxjtm


	31. Epilogue: Silver Linings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise~  
> Enjoy this interlude.

**EPILOGUE: SILVER LINING**

It's unusually cold for early May. The sun struggles to permeate the city smog of Lower Westside, resulting in a thin layer of ice on the cracked pavers within hours of midnight. The few homes still occupied in the dilapidated, formerly middle-class Human neighbourhood spew smoke and ash into the grey sky, adding to the thick pollution through necessity. Chaotics squeeze multiple generations into a single home and huddle around the fire, not content but at least alive, familial bonds cultivating additional warmth through love and shared suffering.

A young hedgehog squatting in the abandoned Robotnik home isn't so lucky; he's barely a preteen and alone, his scuffed shoes and damaged gloves all he has to his name. But what he lacks in possessions, he compensates for in breeding; a bushel of white frames a peach muzzle from below as greyed fur flows into voluminous quills of the same hue, a crest of carefully arranged bundles still neat, if dirty from a week on the streets.

Hungry and starting to smell, the youngster finds shelter in the burned-out shell. The living room and hallway were obviously previously ravaged by fire, leaving a large hole in the roof the weather has poured through for the best part of two decades. The carpet is ruined, sodden and stinking of mold. Structural beams in the attic exposed to the elements rot, the steady drip of tainted water the only sound in the cavernous wreck. 

It doesn't take a genius to realise the freezing room filled with soaked wood and mold spores is useless for warmth and shelter. With a shiver and increased urgency feeling his toes go numb, he continues through the house and thankfully finds the kitchen in better condition; tiles are cracked and like the hall, creeping vegetation has begun to reclaim the walls through the rotting window frames, but there isn't a huge hole in the ceiling and the stove is still structurally sound, it just needs to be lit for heat.

With a little searching, he finds some dry paper and stuffs the fuel hatch full, then spends another twenty minutes searching for matches in the cupboards. The young hedgehog strikes one and tosses it into the fuel hatch, then whimpers when it simply releases a plume of smoke and fizzles out before it catches. He tries throwing two matches in for good measure and chokes on the heated smoke and ash that blows back into his face.

"You'll lose your eyebrows doing shit like that, kid."

The boy startles and crashes back into the breakfast table with a yell of surprise, rotting wood snapping beneath his thin frame and sending him flat on his ass with a cry of pain. Before he can acknowledge the ache in his body the youngster is hauled to his feet by strong hands and deposited firmly into an armchair so old, the springs press and guide into bare thighs, where he's left unattended to watch his visitor turn their attention to the stove.

His unexpected guest is also a hedgehog, though from his pitch and language, he's far older. The boy sits up to watch with rapt attention as the man digs half the paper out of the fuel drawer and snaps some of the rotting wood over his knee to place on top of what remains. He then fishes a Zippo from a breast pocket and using a cylinder of scrap paper, lights the kindling in multiple places. 

It takes time, but the fire flourishes within fifteen minutes. The male guest twists open the chimney funnel and pushes the fuel tray back beneath the oven, leaving the door ajar so it can warm the room more quickly. The light briefly allows the youngster to see the hedgehog properly, and his breath hitches. "I-I'm sorry, Mister Policeman, Sir," he garbles, nauseated as the older male turns back to him slowly. This is Shadow, the Superintendent for the SSPD. An actual cop. "I just n-need somewhere to st-stay overnight, but I can leave! I didn't mean to break any laws! I-"

"If I was going to arrest you, I wouldn't have started a fire," the ebon states calmly, letting the grey hedgehog process that and relax into the old armchair before moving again. He reaches into a pocket and extracts a cigarette, lighting the stick leisurely and taking a deep puff before adding. "You shouldn't be out on the streets alone. It's not safe. Stay here for tonight, then go home."

The kid watches the cigarette flare, highlighting crimson irises so distinguishable from other hedgehogs. It's been thirteen months since the ebony DCI got promoted, after a Human officer tried to kill him for nosing about a murder. There'd been a fanfare about it all - the male survived a bullet wound to the abdomen, recovered in a few weeks, then gone straight back to work. 

Since then, he's not had a day off. Ludicrous.

It's strange, seeing him in person. He looks healthier than the photos in the papers suggested. His Owner's son hadn't liked the pet Chaotic to read and refused to let him see the articles, but the stripes on dark quills are too conspicuous to misplace. Remembering his prior Owners, more specifically his last, the hedgehog ducks his head and looks away. "I can't," he says softly, ears folding as he stares at the floor. "He died and gave me my Freedom. I'm trying to… Find my way, like he wanted-"

Shadow expels a snort of smoke. "If he cared that much, he'd have willed you some funds." Uncaring for the youngster's obvious disagreement, he stubs his spent gasper out on the metal stove top. "He saved his spawn the trouble of selling you; I'd bet a week's wages with those colours, you weren't gotten from accredited breeders. That's an instant trafficking charge."

It's a lot of information the kid doesn't want to hear; staring in disbelief for a few seconds. Honey-coloured eyes close as greyed quills shake in denial. "No, he… He was nice." Shadow in person is gruffer than the boy expected. He doesn't like the male or his assumptions. "Mister Herman taught me lots of stuff. He let me eat at the table with him. He told me about you, and that man who tried to hurt you! He was my friend b-before…"

The ebon looks sympathetic. "Before he killed himself."

Tears start flowing without the kid realising it and soon words abandon him, leaving the young hedgehog to wipe at snot and tears with his forearm, unable to continue. He looks his age at that moment; a child of twelve sheltered from the worst of life until recently, only to be suddenly thrust into the heart of a city that pulsed with sin and blood. "Y-You don't-"

"Phillip Herman," the Superintendent interjects, far closer than the boy remembered him being. He jerks back with wide eyes to regard the ebon now squatted in front of his chair, offering his handkerchief. When the youngster doesn't take it, Shadow very tentatively dabs at the kid's face himself, so gentle the hedgehog barely feels his touch beneath their eye contact. "A veteran of the Great and Second World Wars, discharged from the latter for cowardice. He died ten days ago, in Lower Central."

Dumbfounded by his familiarity, the boy can only swallow as his fixation continues to speak, crimson irises trailing to the tears in the pale fur he wipes. "Suicide; a single shot through his right temple, if memory serves. He must have been a troubled man."

"He was," the youngster whispers, too entranced by the older hedgehog, his sudden appearance in and knowledge of his past. Had he been older or more jaded, the filth-quilled boy might be suspicious. Instead, he's intrigued. "Mister? Am I in tr-trouble? I didn't even know he still had a gun…"

The boy startles when Shadow gives his nose an almost playful squeeze, only then noticing a shift in the man's expression; the smallest of smiles plays on thin lips, casting warmth on his tired features even as the youngster shivers in the still-chilly room. It's then he takes the handkerchief and audibly blows his nose so loud, Shadow will fondly recount how it made windows rattle. 

"You're not in trouble," the ebon reassures as he straightens, retrieving his hat from where it hangs on the back of a surviving chair. "I got a tip there was a kid squatting in abandoned homes. It's not safe in the city for vulnerables right now, especially kids with such conspicuous colouring, so I'm here to offer another option to your current arrangement, one with an undamaged roof, hot meals and locks on all the doors. I just need a name, so I know how to introduce you. If you want, anyway."

Promises of warmth and food winning the desperate boy over in an instant, the pale youngster jumps to his feet, eyes alive with energy. "Really? Somewhere to stay with other Chaotics? Can I-" Noting the humour on Shadow's muzzle deepen, the kid reigns himself in with a bashful flush and scrapes his shoe in the dusty filth of the kitchen floor. "I mean, thank you. I'm starving and…"

He smiles anxiously. "It's... Sylvester. Sylvester Herman.

"But everyone always calls me Silver."


End file.
